x 


THEY  MOVED  AWAY,  LEAVING  MRS.   MORRELL  ALONE,   BITING  HER 
LIPS  AND  PLANNING  REVENGES       (See  page  136) 


• 


VVrtl^C 

. 


m 


Copyright,  79/5,  l>y 
DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  COMPANY 

All  rights  reserved,  including  that  of 

translation  into  foreign  languagest 

including  the  Scandinavian 

COfTXIGHT,  1915,  BT  TBB  CURTIS  PUBLISHING  COMPXBT 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

They  moved  away,  leaving  Mrs.  Morrell  alone,  biting 
her  lips  and  planning  revenges Frontispiece 


FACING  FAGB 


King  listened  to  him  in  silence     . 216 

"Look  here,  don't  try  to  come  that  rot.     I  said,  get 
out — and  I  mean  it!" 234 

"Call  all  you  please/'  he  sneered.     "Nobody's  going 
to  pay  any  attention  to  your  calls  at  Jake's  Place! "     376 


OTHER  BOOKS  BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR 


THE  CLAIM  JUMPERS 
THE  WESTERNERS 
THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 
ARIZONA  NIGHTS 
BLAZED  TRAIL  STORIES 
THE  CABIN 

CAMP  AND  TRAIL 
CONJUROR'S  HOUSE 

THE  FOREST 

THE  SIGN  AT  SIX 

THE  RULES  OF  THE  GAME 


THE  RIVERMAN 
THE  SILENT  PLACES 
THE  ADVENTURES  OF  BOBBY  ORDE 
THE  MOUNTAINS 
THE  PASS 

THE  MAGIC  FOREST 
THE  LAND  OF  FOOTPRINTS 
AFRICAN  CAMP  FIRES     •* 
THE  REDISCOVERED  COUNTRY 
GOLD  ^ 
THE  MYSTERY 
(With  Samuel  Hopkins  Adams) 


THE  GRAY  DAWN 


PRINCIPAL  CHARACTERS  IN  THE  TALE 

MILTON  KEITH:  a  young  lawyer  from  Baltimore. 

NAN  KEITH:  his  wife. 

JOHN  SHERWOOD:  a  gambler. 

PATSY  SHERWOOD:  his  wife. 

ARTHUR  MORRELL:  an  English  adventurer. 

MIMI  MORRELL:  his  wife  or  mistress. 

BEN  SAN  SOME:  a  lady-killer,  destined  to  become  an  "old 
beau/' 

W.  T.  COLEMAN,  or  "  old  Vigilante/*  a  leader. 
DAVID  TERRY:  a  leader  on  the  other  side. 
JAMES  KING  OF  WILLIAM:  a  modern  Crusader. 
THE  SPIRIT  OF  SAN  FRANCISCO 

AND  OTHERS 


THE  GRAY  DAWN 


I 

ON  THE  veranda  of  the  Bella  Union  Hotel,  San  Fran 
cisco,  a  man  sat  enjoying  his  morning  pipe.  The  Bella 
Union  overlooked  the  Plaza  of  that  day,  a  dusty,  un 
kempt,  open  space,  later  to  be  swept  and  graded  and  dignified 
into  Portsmouth  Square.  The  man  was  at  the  younger  fringe 
of  middle  life.  He  was  dressed  neatly  and  carefully  in  the 
fashionable  costume  of  the  time,  which  was  the  year  of  grace 
1852.  As  to  countenance,  he  was  square  and  solid;  as  to 
physique,  he  was  the  same;  as  to  expression,  he  inclined  toward 
the  quietly  humorous;  in  general  he  would  strike  the  observer 
as  deliberately,  philosophically  competent.  A  large  pair  of 
steelbound  spectacles  sat  halfway  down  his  nose.  Sometimes 
he  read  his  paper  through  their  lenses;  and  sometimes,  for 
getting,  he  read  over  the  tops  of  their  bows.  The  newspaper  he 
held  was  an  extraordinary  document.  It  consisted  of  four  large 
pages.  The  outside  page  was  rilled  solidly  with  short  eight  or 
ten  line  advertisements;  the  second  page  grudgingly  vouch 
safed  a  single  column  of  news  items;  the  third  page  warmed  to 
a  column  of  editorial  and  another  of  news;  all  the  rest  of  the 
space  on  these  and  the  entire  fourth  page  was  again  crowded 
close  with  the  short  advertisements.  They  told  of  the  arrival 
of  ships,  the  consignment  of  goods,  the  movements  of  real 
estate,  the  sales  of  stock,  but  mainly  of  auctions.  The  man 
paid  little  attention  to  the  scanty  news,  and  none  at  all  to  the 
editorials.  His  name  was  John  Sherwood,  and  he  was  a  pow 
erful  and  respected  public  gambler. 

3 


4  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

The  approach  across  the  Plaza  of  a  group  of  men  caused  him 
to 'lay  aside  his  paper,  and  with  it  his  spectacles.  The  doffing 
of  the  latter  strangely  changed  his  whole  expression.  The 
philosophical  middle-aged  quietude  fell  from  him.  He  became 
younger,  keener,  more  alert.  It  was  as  though  he  had  re 
moved  a  disguise. 

The  group  approaching  were  all  young  men,  and  all  dressed 
in  the  height  of  fashion.  At  that  rather  picturesque  time  this 
implied  the  flat-brimmed  beaver  hat;  the  long  swallowtail  or 
skirted  coat;  the  tight  " pantaloons";  varicoloured,  splendid, 
low-cut  waistcoats  of  satin,  of  velvet,  or  of  brocade;  high  wing 
collars;  varnished  boots;  many  sparkling  studs  and  cravat 
pins;  rather  longish  hair;  and  whiskers  cut  close  to  the  cheek 
or  curling  luxuriantly  under  the  chin.  They  were  prosperous, 
well-fed,  arrogant-looking  youths,  carrying  their  crests  high, 
the  light  of  questing  recklessness  in  their  eyes,  ready  to  laugh, 
drink,  or  fight  with  anybody.  At  sight  of  Sherwood  they  waved 
friendly  hands  and  canes,  and  veered  in  his  direction. 

"Yo're  just  the  man  we  are  looking  foh!"  cried  a  tall,  dark, 
graceful  young  fellow.  "We  are  all  'specially  needful  of  wis 
dom.  The  drinks  are  on  some  one,  and  we  cain't  decide  who." 

John  Sherwood,  his  keen  eyes  twinkling,  set  his  chair  down  on 
four  legs. 

"State  your  case,  Cal,"  he  said. 

Cal  waved  a  graceful  hand  at  a  stout,  burly,  red-faced  man 
whose  thick  blunt  fingers,  square  blue  jowl,  and  tilted  cigar 
gave  the  flavour  of  the  professional  politician.  "John  Webb, 
here — excuse  me,  Sheriff  John  Webb — presumin'  on  the  fact 
that  he  has  been  to  the  mines,  and  that  he  came  here  in  '49, 
arrogates  to  himself  the  exclusive  lyin'  privileges  of  this  as 
semblage." 

"Pretty  large  order,"  commented  Sherwood. 

"Precisely,"  agreed  Cal,  "and  that's  why  the  drinks  are  on 
him!" 

But  Sheriff  Webb,  who  had  been  chuckling  cavernously 
inside  his  bulky  frame,  spoke  up  in  a  harsh  and  husky  voice: 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  5 

"I  told  them  an  innocent  experience  of  mine,  and  they  try 
to  hold  me  up  for  drinks.  I  don't  object  to  giving  them  a 
reasonable  amount  of  drinks — what  I  call  reasonable,"  he 
added  hastily,  "but  I  object  to  being  held  up." 

"He  says  he  used  to  cook,"  put  in  a  small,  alert,  nervous, 
rather  flashily'  dressed  individual  named  Rowlee,  editor  of  the 
Bugle. 

"I  did!"  stoutly  asseverated  Webb. 

"And  that  he  baked  a  loaf  of  bread  so  hard  nobody  could 
eat  it." 

"Sounds  perfectly  reasonable,"  said  Sherwood. 

"And  that  nobody  could  break  it,"  Rowlee  went  on. 

"I  have  no  difficulty  in  believing  that,"  said  Sherwood  ju 
dicially.  "Your  case  is  mighty  weak  yet,  Cal." 

"But  he  claims  it  was  so  hard  that  they  used  it  for  a  grind 
stone." 

"I  did  not!"  disclaimed  Webb  indignantly. 

An  accusing  groan  met  this  statement. 

"I  tell  you  I  didn't  say  anything  of  the  kind,"  roared  Webb, 
his  bull  voice  overtopping  them  all. 

"Well,  what  did  you  say,  then?"  challenged  Calhoun  Ben 
nett. 

"I  said  we  tried  to  use  her  as  a  grindstone,"  said  Webb,  "but 
it  didn't  work." 

"Weak  case,  boys;  weak  case,"  said  Sherwood. 

The  little  group,  their  eyes  wide,  their  nostrils  distended, 
waited  accusingly  for  Webb  to  proceed.  After  an  interval,  the 
sheriff,  staring  critically  at  the  lighted  end  of  his  cigar,  went  on 
in  a  drawling  voice: 

"Yes,  we  couldn't  get  a  hole  through  her  to  hang  her  axle 
on.  We  blunted  all  our  drills.  Every  Sunday  we'd  try  a  new 
scheme.  Finally  we  laid  her  flat  under  a  tree  and  rigged  a 
lightnin'  rod  down  to  the  centre  of  her.  No  use.  She  tore 
that  lightning  all  to  pieces." 

He  looked  up  at  them  with  a  limpid,  innocent  eye,  to  catch 
John  Sherwood  gazing  at  him  accusingly. 


6  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

"John  Webb,"  said  he,  "you  forget  that  I  came  out  here  in 
'48.  On  your  honour,  do  you  expect  me  to  believe  that  yarn?  " 

"Well,"  said  Webb,  gazing  again  at  his  cigar  end,  "no — • 
really  I  don't.  The  fact  is,"  he  went  on  with  a  perfectly  solemn 
air  of  confidence,  "the  fact  is,  I've  lived  out  here  so  long  and 
told  so  many  damn  lies  that  now  without  some  help  I  don't 
know  when  to  believe  myself." 

"Do  we  get  that  drink?"  insisted  Calhoun  Bennett. 

"Oh,  Lord,  yes,  you  always  get  a  drink." 

"Well,  come  on  and  get  it  then — you,  too,  of  course,  Mr. 
Sherwood." 

The  gambler  arose,  and  began  leisurely  to  fold  his  paper  and 
to  put  away  his  spectacles. 

"I  see  you  got  Mex  Ryan  off,  Cal,"  he  observed.  "You 
either  had  extraordinary  luck  or  you're  a  mighty  fine  lawyer. 
Looked  like  a  clear  case  to  me.  He  just  naturally  went  in  and 
beat  Rucker  half  to  death  in  his  own  store.  How  did  you  do  it?  " 

"I  assure  yo'  it  was  no  sinecure,"  laughed  the  tall,  dark 
youth.  "I  earned  my  fee." 

"Yes,"  grumbled  Webb,  "but  he  got  six  months— and  I  got 
to  take  care  of  him.  Cluttering  up  my  jail  with  dirty  beasts 
like  Mex  Ryan!  Could  just  as  easy  have  turned  him  loose!" 

"That  would  have  been  a  little  too  much!"  smiled  Bennett. 
"It  was  takin'  some  risk  to  let  him  off  as  easy  as  we  did.  It 
isn't  so  long  since  the  Vigilantes." 

"Oh,  hell,  we  can  handle  that  sort  of  trash  now,"  snorted 
Webb. 

"Who  was  backing  Mex,  anyway?"  asked  Rowlee  curiously. 

"Better  ask  who  had  it  in  for  Rucker,"  suggested  the  fourth 
member  of  the  group,  a  man  who  had  not  heretofore  spoken. 
This  was  Dick  Blatchford,  a  round-faced,  rather  corpulent, 
rather  silent  though  jovial-looking  individual,  with  a  calculating 
and  humorous  eye.  He  was  magnificently  apparelled,  but 
rather  untidy. 

"Well,  I  do  ask  it,"  said  Rowlee. 

"But  to  this  he  got  no  response. 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  7 

"Come  on,  ain't  you  got  that  valuable  paper  folded  up  yet?" 
rumbled  Webb  to  Sherwood. 

They  all  turned  down  the  high-pillared  veranda,  toward  the 
bar,  talking  idly  and  facetiously  of  last  night's  wine  and  this 
morning's  head.  A  door  opened  at  their  very  elbow,  and  in  it  a 
woman  appeared. 


II 

SHE  was  a  slender  woman,  of  medium  height,  with  a  small, 
well-poised  head,  on  which  the  hair  lay  smooth  and  glossy. 
Her  age  was  somewhere  between  thirty  and  thirty-five 
years.  A  stranger  would  have  been  first  of  all  impressed  by  the 
imperious  carriage  of  her  head  and  shoulders,  the  repose  of  her 
attitude.  Become  a  friend  or  a  longer  acquaintance,  he  would 
have  noticed  more  particularly  her  wide  low  brow,  her  steady 
gray  eyes,  and  her  grave  but  humorous  lips.  But  inevitably  he 
would  have  gone  back  at  last  to  her  more  general  impression. 
Ben  Sansome,  the  only  man  in  town  who  did  nothing,  made 
society  and  dress  a  profession  and  the  judgment  of  women  a 
religion,  had  long  since  summed  her  up:  "She  carries  her  head 
charmingly." 

This  poised,  wise  serenity  of  carriage  was  well  set  off  by  the 
costume  of  the  early  fifties — a  low  collar,  above  which  her  neck 
rose  like  a  flower  stem;  flowing  sleeves;  full  skirts  with  many 
silken  petticoats  that  whispered  and  rustled;  low  sandalled 
shoes,  -their  ties  crossed  and  recrossed  around  white  slender 
ankles.  A  cameo  locket,  hung  on  a  heavy  gold  chain,  rose  and 
fell  with  her  breast;  a  cameo  brooch  pinned  together  the  folds 
of  her  bodice;  massive  and  wide  bracelets  of  gold  clasped  her 
wrists  and  vastly  set  off  her  rounded,  slender  forearms. 

She  stood  quite  motionless  in  the  doorway,  nodding  with  a 
little  smile  in  response  to  the  men's  sweeping  salutes. 

"You  will  excuse  me,  gentlemen,  I  am  sure,"  said  Sherwood 
formally,  and  instantly  turned  aside. 

The  woman  in  the  doorway  thereupon  preceded  him  down  a 
narrow,  bare,  unlighted  hallway,  opened  another  door,  and  en 
tered  a  room.  Sherwood  followed,  closing  the  door  after  him. 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  9 

"Want  something,  Patsy?"  he  inquired. 

The  room  was  obviously  one  of  the  best  of  the  Bella  Union. 
That  is  to  say,  it  was  fairly  large,  the  morning  sun  streamed  in 
through  its  two  windows,  and  it  contained  a  small  iron  stove. 
In  all  other  respects  it  differed  quite  from  any  other  hotel  room 
in  the  San  Francisco  of  that  time.  A  heavy  carpet  covered  the 
floor,  the  upholstery  was  of  leather  or  tapestry,  wall  paper 
adorned  the  walls,  a  large  table  supported  a  bronze  lamp  and 
numerous  books  and  papers,  a  canary,  in  a  brass  cage,  hung  in  the 
sunshine  of  one  of  the  windows,  flitted  from  perch  to  perch, 
occasionally  uttering  a  few  liquid  notes  under  its  breath. 

"  Just  a  little  change,  Jack,  if  you  have  some  with  you,"  said 
the  woman.  Her  speaking  voice  was  rich  and  low. 

Sherwood  thrust  a  forefinger  into  his  waistcoat  pocket,  and 
produced  one  of  the  hexagonal  slugs  of  gold  current  at  that 
time. 

"Oh,  not  so  much!"  she  protested. 

"All  I've  got.     What  are  you  up  to  to-day,  Patsy?" 

"I  thought  of  going  down  to  Yet  Lee's — unless  there  is  some 
thing  better  to  do." 

"  Doesn't  sound  inspiring.  Did  you  go  to  that  fair  or  bazaar 
thing  yesterday?" 

She  smiled  with  her  lips,  but  her  eyes  darkened. 

"Yes,  I  went.  It  was  not  altogether  enjoyable.  I  doubt  if 
I'll  try  that  sort  of  thing  again." 

Sherwood's  eye  suddenly  became  cold  and  dangerous. 

"If  they  didn't  treat  you  right- 
She  smiled,  genuinely  this  time,  at  his  sudden  truculence. 

"They  didn't  mob  me,"  she  rejoined  equably,  "and,  anyway, 
I  suppose  it  is  to  be  expected." 

"It's  that  cat  of  Morrell's,"  he  surmised. 

"Oh,  she — and  others.  I  ought  not  to  have  spoken  of  it, 
Jack.  It's  really  beneath  the  contempt  of  sensible  people." 

"I'll  get  after  Morrell,  if  he  doesn't  make  that  woman  behave," 
said  Sherwood,  without  attention  to  her  last  speech. 

She  smiled  at  him  again,  entirely  calm  and  reasonable. 


10  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

"  And  what  good  would  it  do  to '  get  after '  Morrell?  "  she  asked. 
"Mrs.  Morrell  only  stands  for  what  most  of  them  feel.  I  don't 
care,  anyway.  I  get  along  splendidly  without  them."  She 
sauntered  over  to  the  window,  where  she  began  idly  to  poke  one 
finger  at  the  canary. 

"For  the  life  of  me,  Patsy,"  confessed  Sherwood,  "I  can't  see 
that  they're  an  inspiring  lot,  anyway.  From  what  little  I've 
seen  of  them,  they  haven't  more  than  an  idea  apiece.  They'd 
bore  me  to  death  in  a  week." 

"  I  know  that.  They'd  bore  me,  too.  Don't  talk  about  them. 
When  do  they  expect  the  Panama — do  you  know?" 

But  with  masculine  persistence  he  refused  to  abandon  the 
topic. 

"I  must  confess  I  don't  see  the  point,"  he  insisted.  "You've 
got  more  brains  than  the  whole  lot  of  them  together,  you've  got 
more  sense,  you're  a  lot  better  looking" — he  surveyed  her, 
standing  in  the  full  light  by  the  canary's  cage,  her  little  glossy 
head  thrown  back,  her  pink  lips  pouted  teasingly  at  the  charmed 
and  agitated  bird,  her  fine  clear  features  profiled  in  the  gold  of 
the  sunshine — "and  you're  a  thoroughbred,  egad,  which  most 
of  them  are  not." 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  kind  sir."  She  threw  him  a  humorous  glance. 
"But  of  course  that  is  not  the  point." 

"Oh,  isn't  it?     Well,  perhaps  you'll  tell  me  the  point." 

She  left  the  canary  and  came  to  face  him. 

"I'm  not  respectable,"  she  said. 

At  the  word  he  exploded. 

"Respectable?  What  are  you  talking  about?  You  talk  as 
though — as  though  we  weren't  married,  egad!" 

"Well,  Jack,"  she  replied,  a  faint  mocking  smile  curving  the 
corners  of  her  mouth,  "when  it  comes  to  that,  we  did  elope, 
you'll  have  to  acknowledge.  And  we  weren't  married  for  quite 
a  long  time  afterward." 

"We  got  married  as  soon  as  we  could,  didn't  we?"  he  cried 
indignantly.  "Was  it  our  fault  that  we  didn't  get  married 
sooner?  And  what  difference  did  it  make,  anyway?" 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  11 

"Now  don't  get  all  worked  up,"  she  chided.  "I'm  just 
telling  you  why,  in  the  eyes  of  some  of  these  people,  I'm  not 
'respectable.'  You  asked  me,  you  know." 

"Go  on,"  he  conceded  to  this  last. 

"Well,  we  ran  away  and  weren't  married.  That's  item  one. 
Then  perhaps  you've  forgotten  that  I  sat  on  lookout  for  some  of 
your  games  in  the  early  days  in  the  mining  camps?" 

"Forgotten?"  said  Sherwood,  the  light  of  reminiscence 
springing  to  his  eyes. 

The  same  light  had  come  into  hers. 

"Will  you  ever  forget,"  she  murmured,  "the  camps  by  the 
summer  streams,  the  log  towns,  the  lights,  the  smoke,  the  free 
dom — the  comradeship " 

"Homesick  for  the  old  rough  days?"  he  teased. 

"Kind  of,"  she  confessed.  "But  it  wasn't  '  respectable  '—a 
— well,  a  fairly  good-looking  woman  in  a  miner's  saloon." 

He  flared  again. 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  they  dare  say " 

"They  dare  say  anything — behind  our  backs,"  she  said,  with 
cool  contempt.  "It's  all  drivelling  nonsense.  I  care  nothing 
about  it.  But  you  asked  me.  Don't  bother  your  head  about 
it.  Have  you  anything  to  suggest  doing  this  morning,  instead 
of  Yet  Lee's?"  She  turned  away  from  him  toward  the  door 
leading  into  another  room.  "I'll  get  my  hat,"  she  said  over 
her  shoulder. 

"Look  here,  Patsy,"  said  Sherwood,  rather  grimly,  "if  you 
want  to  get  in  with  that  lot,  you  shall." 

She  stopped  at  this,  and  turned  square  around. 

"If  I  do— when  I  do— I  will,"  she  replied.  " But,  John  Sher 
wood,  you  mustn't  interfere — never  in  the  world!  Promise!" 
She  stood  there,  almost  menacing  in  her  insistence,  evidently 
resolved  to  nip  this  particularly  masculine  resolution  in  the  bud. 

"Egad,  Patsy,"  cried  Sherwood,  "you  are  certainly  a  raving 
beauty!" 

He  covered  the  ground  between  them  in  two  strides,  and 
crushed  her  in  his  arms.  She  threw  her  head  back  for  his  kiss. 


12  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

A  knock  sounded,  and  almost  immediately  a  very  black, 
very  bullet-headed  young  negro  thrust  his  head  in  at  the  door. 

"Sam,"  said  Sherwood  deliberately,  "some  day  I'm  going 
to  kill  you!" 

"Yes,  sah!  yes,  sah!"  agreed  Sam  heartily. 

"Well,  what  the  devil  do  you  want?" 

"TV  Panama  done  been  signalled;  yes,  sah!"  said  the  negro, 
but  without  following  his  head  through  the  door. 

"Well,  what  the  devil  do  you  suppose  I  care,  you  black  limb?  " 
roared  Sherwood,  "  and  what  do  you  mean  coming  in  here  before 
you're  told?" 

"  Yes,  sah,  yes,  sah,  dat's  right,"  ducked  Sam.  "  Shell  I  awdah 
the  team,  sah?" 

"I  suppose  we  might  as  well  go  see  her  docked.  Would  you 
like  it?"  he  asked  his  wife. 

"I'd  love  it." 

"  Then  get  the  team.    And  some  day  I'm  going  to  kill  you." 


Ill 

MRS.  SHERWOOD  prepared  herself  first  of  all  by  powder 
ing  her  nose.  This  simple  operation,  could  it  have  been 
seen  by  the  "respectable "members  of  the  community, 
would  in  itself  have  branded  her  as  "fast."  In  those  days 
cosmetics  of  any  sort  were  by  most  considered  inventions  of  the 
devil.  It  took  extraordinary  firmness  of  character  even  to 
protect  one's  self  against  sunburn  by  anything  more  artificial 
than  the  shadow  of  a  hat  or  a  parasol.  Then  she  assumed  a 
fascinating  little  round  hat  that  fitted  well  down  over  her  small 
head.  This,  innocent  of  pins,  was  held  on  by  an  elastic  at  the 
back.  A  ribbon,  hanging  down  directly  in  front,  could  be 
utilized  to  steady  it  in  a  breeze. 

"All  ready,"  she  announced,  picking  up  a  tiny  parasol,  about 
big  enough  for  a  modern  doll.  "You  may  carry  my  mantle." 

Near  the  foot  of  the  veranda  steps  waited  Sam  at  the  heads 
of  a  pair  of  beautiful,  slim,  satiny  horses.  Their  bay  coats  had 
been  groomed  until  they  rippled  and  sparkled  with  every 
movement  of  the  muscles  beneath.  Wide  red-lined  nostrils 
softly  expanded  and  contracted  with  a  restrained  eagerness; 
and  soft  eyes  rolled  in  the  direction  of  the  Sherwoods — keen, 
lithe,  nervous,  high-strung  creatures,  gently  stamping  little 
hoofs,  impatiently  tossing  dainty  heads,  but  nevertheless  making 
no  movement  that  would  stir  the  vehicle  that  stood  "cramped" 
at  the  steps.  Their  harness  carried  no  blinders;  their  tails,  un- 
docked,  swept  the  ground;  but  their  heads  were  pulled  into  the 
air  by  the  old  stupid  overhead  check  reins  until  their  noses 
pointed  almost  straight  ahead.  It  gave  them  rather  a  haughty 
air. 

Sherwood  stepped  hi  first,  took  the  reins  in  one  hand,  and 

13 


14  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

offered  his  other  hand  to  his  wife.  Sam  instantly  left  the 
horses'  heads  to  hold  a  wicker  contrivance  against  the  arc  of 
the  wheels.  This  was  to  protect  skirts  from  dusty  tires.  Mrs. 
Sherwood  settled  as  gracefully  to  her  place  as  a  butterfly  on  its 
flower.  Sam  snatched  away  the  wicker  guards.  Sherwood 
spoke  to  the  horses.  With  a  purring  little  snort  they  moved 
smoothly  away.  The  gossamerlike  wheels  threw  the  light 
from  their  swift  spokes.  Sam,  half  choked  by  the  swirl  of  dust, 
gazed  after  them.  Sherwood,  leaning  slightly  forward  against 
the  first  eagerness  of  the  animals,  showed  a  strong,  competent, 
arresting  figure,  with  his  beaver  hat,  his  keen  grim  face,  his  snow- 
white  linen,  and  the  blue  of  his  brass-buttoned  coat.  The 
beautiful  horses  were  stepping  as  one,  a  delight  to  the  eye,  mak 
ing  nothing  whatever  of  the  frail  vehicle  at  their  heels.  But 
Sam's  eye  lingered  longest  on  the  small  stately  figure  of  his 
mistress.  She  sat  very  straight,  her  head  high,  the  little  parasol 
poised  against  the  sun,  the  other  hand  clasping  the  hat  ribbon. 

" Dem's  quality  foh  sure!"  said  Sam  with  conviction. 

Sherwood  drove  rapidly  around  the  edge  of  the  Plaza  and 
so  into  Kearney  Street.  From  here  to  the  water  front  were  by 
now  many  fireproof  brick  and  stone  structures,  with  double  doors 
and  iron  shutters,  like  fortresses.  So  much  had  San  Francisco 
learned  from  her  five  disastrous  fires.  The  stone  had  come 
from  China,  the  brick  also  from  overseas.  Down  side  streets 
one  caught  glimpses  of  huge  warehouses — already  in  this  year 
of  1852  men  talked  of  the  open-air  auctions  of  three  years  before 
as  of  something  in  history  inconceivably  remote.  The  streets, 
where  formerly  mule  teams  had  literally  been  drowned  in  mud, 
now  were  covered  with  planking.  This  made  a  fine  resounding 
pavement.  Horses'  hoofs  went  merrily  klop,  klop,  klop,  and  the 
wheels  rumbled  a  dull  undertone.  San  Francisco  had  been  very 
proud  of  this  pavement  when  it  was  new.  She  was  very  grateful 
for  it  even  now,  for  in  the  upper  part  of  town  the  mud  and  dust 
were  still  something  awful.  Unfortunately  the  planks  were  be 
ginning  to  wear  out  in  places;  and  a  city  government,  trying 
to  give  the  least  possible  for  its  taxes,  had  made  no  repairs. 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  15 

There  were  many  holes,  large  or  small:  jagged,  splintered,  ugly 
holes  going  down  to  indeterminate  blackness  either  of  depth  or 
mud.  Private  philanthropists  had  fenced  or  covered  these. 
Private  facetiousness  had  labelled  most  of  them  with  sign 
boards.  These  were  rough  pictures  of  disaster  painted  from  the 
marking  pot,  and  various  screeds — "Head  of  Navigation," 
"No  Bottom,"  "Horse  and  Dray  Lost  Here,"  "Take  Sound 
ings,"  "Storage,  Inquire  Below,"  "Good  Fishing  for  Teal," 
and  the  like. 

Among  these  obstructions  Sherwood  guided  his  team  skilfully, 
dodging  not  only  them,  but  other  vehicles  darting  or  crawling 
in  the  same  direction.  There  were  no  rules  of  the  road.  Omni 
buses  careered  along,  every  window  rattling  loudly;  drays 
creaked  and  strained,  their  horses'  hoofs  slipping  against  wet 
planks;  horsemen  threaded  their  way;  nondescript  delivery 
wagons  tried  to  outrattle  the  omnibuses.  The  din  was  some 
thing  extraordinary — hoofs  drumming,  wheels  rumbling,  oaths 
and  shouts,  and  from  the  sidewalks  the  blare  and  bray  of  brass 
bands  in  front  of  the  various  auction  shops.  Newsboys  and 
bootblacks  darted  in  all  directions,  shouting  raucously  as  they 
do  to-day.  Cigar  boys,  an  institution  of  the  tune,  added  to 
the  hubbub.  Everybody  was  going  in  the  same  direction,  some 
sauntering  with  an  air  of  leisure,  some  hurrying  as  though  their 
fortunes  were  at  stake. 

A  wild  shriek  arose,  and  everybody  made  room  for  the  steam 
sand  shovel  on  its  way  to  dump  the  sand  hills  into  the  bay.  It 
was  called  the  "steam  paddy"  to  distinguish  it  from  the  "hand 
paddy" — out  of  Cork  or  Dublin.  It  rumbled  by  on  its  track, 
very  much  like  juggernaut  in  its  calm  indifference  as  to  how 
many  it  ran  over.  Sherwood's  horses  looked  at  it  nervously 
askance;  but  he  spoke  to  them,  and  though  they  trembled  they 
stood. 

Now  they  debouched  on  the  Central  Wharf,  and  the  sound  of 
the  hoofs  and  the  wheels  changed  its  tone.  Central  Wharf 
extended  a  full  mile  into  the  bay.  It  was  lined  on  either  side 
its  narrow  roadway  by  small  shacks,  in  which  were  offered  fowls, 


i6  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

fish,  vegetables,  candy,  refreshments.  Some  of  them  were 
tiny  saloons  or  gambling  houses.  But  by  far  the  majority  were 
the  cubicles  where  the  Jewish  slop  sellers  displayed  their  wares. 
Men  returning  from  the  mines  here  landed,  and  here  replenished 
their  wardrobes.  Everything  was  exposed  to  view  outside,  like 
clothes  hung  out  after  a  rain. 

The  narrow  way  between  this  long  row  of  shops  was  crowded 
almost  dangerously.  Magnificent  dray  horses,  with  long  hair  on 
the  fetlocks  above  their  big  heavy  hoofs,  bridling  in  conscious 
pride  of  silver-mounted  harness  and  curled  or  braided  manes, 
rose  above  the  ruck  as  their  ancestors,  the  warhorses,  must  have 
risen  in  medieval  battle.  The  crowd  parted  before  them  and 
closed  in  behind  them.  Here  and  there,  too,  a  horseman  could  be 
seen — with  a  little  cleared  space  at  his  heels.  Or  a  private 
calash  picking  its  way  circumspectly. 

From  her  point  of  vantage  on  the  elevated  seat  Mrs.  Sherwood 
could  see  over  the  heads  of  people.  She  sat  very  quietly,  her 
body  upright,  but  in  the  poised  repose  characteristic  of  her. 
Many  admiring  glances  were  directed  at  her.  She  seemed  to  be 
unconscious  of  them.  Nevertheless,  nothing  escaped  her.  She 
saw,  and  appreciated  "and  enjoyed,  every  phase  of  that  hetero 
geneous  crowd — miners  in  their  exaggeratedly  rough  clothes, 
brocaded  or  cotton  clad  Chinese,  gorgeous  Spaniards  or  Chilefios, 
drunken  men,  sober  men,  excited  men,  empty  cans  or  cases 
kicking  around  underfoot,  frantic  runners  for  hotels  or  steam 
boats  trying  to  push  their  way  by,  newsboys  and  cigar  boys 
darting  about  and  miraculously  worming  their  way  through  im 
penetrable  places.  Atop  a  portable  pair  of  steps  a  pale,  well- 
dressed  young  man  was  playing  thimble-rig  on  his  knees  with  a 
gilt  pea.  From  an  upturned  keg  a  preacher  was  exhorting.  And 
occasionally,  through  gaps  between  the  shacks,  she  caught 
glimpses  of  blue  water;  or  of  ships  at  anchor;  or,  more  often,  of 
the  tall  pile  drivers  whose  hammers  went  steadily  up  and  down. 

Sherwood  guided  his  glossy  team  and  light  spidery  vehicle 
with  the  greatest  delicacy  and  skill.  He  was  wholly  absorbed 
in  his  task.  Suddenly  up  ahead  a  wild  turmoil  broke  out. 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  17 

People  crowded  to  right  and  left,  clambering,  shouting,  scream 
ing.  A  runaway  horse  hitched  to  a  light  buggy  came  careering 
down  the  way. 

A  collision  seemed  inevitable.  Sherwood  turned  his  horses' 
heads  directly  at  an  open  shop  front.  They  hesitated,  their  small 
pointed  ears  working  nervously.  Sherwood  spoke  to  them.  They 
moved  forward,  quivering,  picking  their  way  daintily.  Sherwood 
spoke  again.  They  stopped.  The  runaway  hurtled  by,  missing 
the  tail  of  the  buggy  by  two  feet.  A  moment  later  a  grand  crash 
marked  the  end  of  its  career  farther  down  the  line.  Again 
Sherwood  spoke  to  his  horses,  and  exerted  the  slightest  pressure 
on  the  reins.  Daintily,  slowly,  their  ears  twitching  back  and 
forth,  their  fine  eyes  rolling,  they  backed  out  of  the  opening. 

Throughout  all  this  exciting  little  incident  the  woman  had  not 
altered  her  pose  nor  the  expression  of  her  face.  Her  head  high, 
her  eye  ruminative,  she  had  looked  on  it  all  as  one  quite  de 
tached  from  possible  consequences.  The  little  parasol  did  not 
change  its  angle.  Only,  quite  deliberately,  she  had  relinquished 
the  ribbon  by  which  she  held  on  her  hat,  and  had  placed  her 
slender  hand  steadingly  on  the  side  of  the  vehicle. 

The  bystanders,  already  leaping  down  from  their  places  of 
refuge  and  again  crowding  the  narrow  way,  directed  admiring 
eyes  toward  the  beautiful,  nervous,  docile  horses,  the  calm 
and  dominating  man,  and  the  poised,  dainty  creature  at  his  side. 
One  drunken  individual  cheered  her  personally.  At  this  a  faint 
shell  pink  appeared  in  her  cheeks,  though  she  gave  no  other  sign 
that  she  had  heard.  Sherwood  glanced  down  at  her,  amused. 

But  now  emerged  the  Jew  slop  seller,  very  voluble.  He  had 
darted  like  a  rat  to  some  mysterious  inner  recess  of  his  burrow; 
but  now  he  was  out  again  filling  the  air  with  lamentations,  claims, 
appeals  for  justice.  Sherwood  did  not  even  glance  toward  him; 
but  in  the  very  act  of  tooling  his  horses  into  the  roadway  tossed 
the  man  some  silver.  Immediately,  with  shouts  and  cheers  and 
laughter,  the  hoodlums  nearby  began  a  scramble. 

The  end  of  the  long  wharf  widened  to  a  great  square,  free  of  all 
buildings  but  a  sort  of  warehouse  near  one  end.  Here  a  rope 


i8  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

divided  off  a  landing  space.  Close  to  the  rope  the  multitude 
crowded,  ready  for  its  entertainment.  Here  also  stood  in  stately 
grandeur  the  three  livery  hacks  of  which  San  Francisco  boasted. 
They  were  magnificent  affairs,  the  like  of  which  has  never  else 
where  been  seen  plying  for  public  hire,  brightly  painted,  highly 
varnished,  lined  with  silks,  trimmed  with  solid  silver.  The 
harnesses  were  heavily  mounted  with  the  same  metal.  On  their 
boxes  sat  fashionable  creatures,  dressed,  not  in  livery,  but  through 
out  in  the  very  latest  of  the  late  styles,  shod  with  varnished 
leather,  gloved  with  softest  kid.  Sherwood  drove  skilfully  to  the 
very  edge  of  the  roped  space,  pushing  aside  the  crowd  on  foot. 
They  growled  at  him  savagely.  He  paid  no  attention  to  them, 
and  they  gave  way.  The  buggy  came  to  a  stop.  The  horses, 
tossing  their  heads,  rolling  their  eyes,  stamping  their  little  hoofs, 
nevertheless  stood  without  need  of  further  attention. 

Now  the  brass  bands  blared  with  a  sudden  overwhelming  blast 
of  sound;  the  crowd  cheered  noisily;  the  runners  for  the  hotels 
began  to  bark  like  a  pack  of  dogs.  With  a  vast  turmoil  of 
paddle  wheels,  swirling  of  white  and  green  waters,  bellowing  of 
speaking  trumpets,  throwing  of  handlines  and  scurrying  of  deck 
hands  and  dock  hands,  the  Panama  came  to  rest.  After  con 
siderable  delay  the  gangplank  was  placed.  The  passengers  began 
to  disembark,  facing  the  din  much  as  they  would  have  faced  the 
buffeting  of  a  strong  wind.  This  was  the  cream  of  the  entertain 
ment  for  which  the  crowd  had  gathered;  for  which,  indeed,  the 
Sherwoods  had  made  their  excursion.  Each  individual  received 
his  meed  of  comment,  sometimes  audible  and  by  no  means  always 
flattering.  Certainly  in  variety  both  of  character  and  of  circum 
stance  they  offered  plenty  of  material.  From  wild,  half-civilized 
denizens  of  Louisiana's  canebreaks,  clinging  closely  to  their  little 
bundles  and  their  long  rifles,  to  the  most  polished  exquisites  of 
fashion  they  offered  all  grades  and  intermediates.  Some  of 
them  looked  rather  bewildered.  Some  seemed  to  know  just 
what  to  do  and  where  to  go.  Most  dove  into  the  crowd  with  the 
apparent  idea  of  losing  their  identity  as  soon  as  possible.  The 
three  magnificent  hacks  were  filled,  and  managed,  with  much 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  19 

plunging  and  excitement,  to  plow  a  way  through  the  crowd  and 
so  depart.  Amusing  things  happened  to  which  the  Sherwoods 
called  each  other's  attention.  Thus  a  man,  burdened  with  a 
single  valise,  ducked  under  the  ropes  near  them.  A  paper  boy 
happened  to  be  standing  near.  The  passenger  offered  tae  boy 
a  fifty-cent  piece. 
ft  "Here,  boy,"  said  he,  "  just  carry  this  valise  for  me." 

The  paper  boy  gravely  contemplated  the  fifty  cents,  dove  into 
his  pocket,  and  produced  another. 

"Here,  man,"  said  he,  handing  them  both  to  the  traveller, 
"take  this  and  carry  it  yourself." 

One  by  one  the  omnibuses  rilled  and  departed.  The  stream  of 
passengers  down  the  gangplank  had  ceased.  The  crowd  began 
to  thin.  Sherwood  gathered  his  reins  to  go.  Mrs.  Sherwood 
suddenly  laid  her  hand  on  his  forearm. 

" Oh,  the  poor  thing!"  she  cried,  her  voice  thrilling  with  com 
passion. 

A  young  man  and  a  steward  were  supporting  a  girl  down 
the  gangplank.  Evidently  she  was  very  weak  and  ill.  Her  face 
was  chalky  white,  with  dark  rings  under  the  eyes,  her  lips  were 
pale,  and  she  leaned  heavily  on  the  men.  Although  she  could  not 
have  heard  Mrs.  Sherwood's  exclamation  of  pity,  she  happened  to 
look  up  at  that  instant,  revealing  a  pair  of  large,  dark,  and  appeal 
ing  eyes.  Her  figure,  too,  dressed  in  a  plain  travelling  dress, 
strikingly  simple  but  bearing  the  unmistakable  mark  of  dis 
tinction,  was  appealing;  as  were  her  exquisite,  smooth  baby  skin 
and  the  downward  drooping,  almost  childlike,  curves  of  her  lips. 
The  inequalities  of  the  ribbed  gangplank  were  sufficient  to  cause 
her  to  stumble. 

"She  is  very  weak,"  commented  Mrs.  Sherwood. 

"She  is — or  would  be — remarkably  pretty,"  added  Sherwood. 
"I  wonder  what  ails  her." 

Arrived  at  the  foot  of  the  gangplank  the  young  man  removed 
his  hat  with  an  air  of  perplexity,  and  looked  about  him.  He  was 
of  the  rather  florid,  always  boyish  type;  and  the  removal  of  his 
hat  had  revealed  a  mat  of  close-curling  brown  hair,  like  a  cap  over 


20  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

his  well-shaped  head.  The  normal  expression  of  his  face  was 
probably  quizzically  humorous,  for  already  the  little  lines  of 
habitual  half  laughter  were  sketched  about  his  eyes. 

"A  plunger/'  said  John  Sherwood  to  himself,  out  of  his 
knowledge  of  men;  then  as  the  young  man  glanced  directly 
toward  him,  disclosing  the  colour  and  expression  of  his  eyes,  "a 
plunger  in  something,"  he  amended,  revising  his  first  impression. 

But  now  the  humorous  element  was  quite  in  abeyance,  and 
a  faint  dismay  had  taken  its  place.  One  arm  supporting  the 
drooping  girl,  he  was  looking  up  and  down  the  wharf.  Not  a 
vehicle  remained  save  the  heavy  drays  already  backing  up  to 
receive  their  loads  of  freight.  The  dock  hands  had  dropped  and 
were  coiling  the  line  that  had  separated  the  crowd  from  the  land 
ing  stage. 

With  another  exclamation  the  woman  in  the  carriage  rose, 
and  before  Sherwood  could  make  a  move  to  assist  her,  had  poised 
on  the  rim  of  the  wheel  and  leaped  lightly  to  the  dock.  Like  a 
thistledown  she  floated  to  the  little  group  at  the  foot  of  the 
gangplank.  The  steward  instantly  gave  way  to  her  evident 
intention.  She  passed  her  arm  around  the  girl's  waist.  The 
three  moved  slowly  toward  the  buggy,  Mrs.  Sherwood,  her  head 
bent  charmingly  forward,  murmuring  compassionate,  broken, 
little  phrases,  supporting  the  newcomer's  reviving  footsteps. 

Sherwood,  a  faint,  fond  amusement  lurking  in  the  depths  of  his 
eyes,  quietly  cramped  the  wheels  of  the  buggy. 


IV 

AIALF  hour  later  the  two  men,  having  deposited  the 
women  safely  in  the  Sherwoods'  rooms  at  the  Bella 
Union,  and  having  been  unceremoniously  dismissed  by 
Mrs.  Sherwood,  strolled  together  to  the  veranda.    They  had 
not,  until  now,  had  a  chance  to  exchange  six  words. 

The  newcomer,  who  announced  himself  as  Milton  Keith  from 
Baltimore,  proved  to  have  a  likable  and  engaging  personality. 
He  was  bubbling  with  interest  and  enthusiasm;  and  these 
qualities,  provided  they  are  backed  solidly,  are  always  pre 
possessing.  Sherwood,  quietly  studying  him,  concluded  that 
such  was  the  case.  His  jaw  and  mouth  were  set  in  firm  lines;  his 
eye,  while  dancing  and  mischievous,  had  depths  of  capability 
and  reserves  of  forcefulness.  But  Sherwood  was,  by  inclination 
and  by  the  necessities  of  his  profession,  a  close  observer  of  men. 
Another,  less  practised,  might  have  seen  here  merely  an  eager, 
rather  talkative,  apparently  volatile,  very  friendly,  quite  un 
reserved  young  man  of  twenty-five.  Any  one,  analytical  or 
otherwise,  could  not  have  avoided  feeling  the  attractive  force  of 
the  youth's  personality,  the  friendly  quality  that  is  nine  tenths 
individual  magnetism  and  one  tenth  the  cast  of  mind  that 
initially  takes  for  granted  the  other  man's  friendliness. 

At  the  moment  Keith  was  boyishly  avid  for  the  sights  of  the 
new  city.  In  these  modern  days  of  long  journeys,  a  place  so  remote 
as  San  Francisco,  in  the  most  commonplace  of  circumstances, 
gathers  to  its  reputation  something  of  the  fabulous.  How  much 
more  true  then  of  a  city  built  from  sand  dunes  in  four  years;  five 
times  swept  by  fire,  yet  rising  again  and  better  before  its  ashes  were 
extinct;  the  resort  of  all  the  picturesque,  unknown  races  of  the  *4 
earth— the  Chinese,  the  Chileno,  the  Mexican,  the  Spanish,  the 

21 


22  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

Islander,  the  Moor,  the  Turk — not  to  speak  of  ordinary  foreigners 
from  Russia,  England,  France,  Belgium,  Germany,  Italy,  and  the 
out-of-the-way  corners  of  Europe;  the  haunt  of  the  wild  and 
striking  individuals  of  all  these  races.  "Sydney  ducks"  from 
the  criminal  colonies;  "shoulder  strikers"  direct  from  the 
tough  wards  of  New  York;  long,  lean,  fever-haunted  crackers  from 
the  Georgia  mountains  or  the  Louisiana  canebrakes;  Pike  County 
desperadoes;  long-haired  men  from  the  trapping  countries;  hard- 
fisted,  sardonic  state  of  Maine  men  fresh  from  their  rivers;  and 
Indian  fighters  from  the  Western  Reserve;  grasping,  shrewd  com 
mercial  Yankees;  fire-eating  Southern  politicians;  lawyers, 
doctors,  merchants,  chiefs,  and  thiefs,  the  well-educated  and  the 
ignorant,  the  high-minded  and  the  scalawags,  all  dumped  down 
together  on  a  sand  hill  to  work  out  their  destinies;  a  city  whose 
precedents,  whose  morals,  whose  laws,  were  made  or  adapted  on 
the  spot;  where  might  in  some  form  or  another — revolver,  money, 
influence — made  its  only  right;  whose  history  ranged  in  three 
years  the  gamut  of  human  passion,  strife,  and  development ;  whose 
background  was  the  fabled  El  Dorado  whence  the  gold  in  un 
ending  floods  poured  through  its  sluices.  To  the  outside  world 
tales  of  these  things  had  come.  They  did  not  lose  in  the  journey. 
The  vast  loom  of  actual  occurrences  rose  above  the  horizon  like 
mirages.  Names  and  events  borrowed  a  half-legendary  quality 
from  distances,  as  elsewhere  from  time.  Keith  had  heard  of 
Coleman,  of  Terry,  of  Broderick,  Brannan,  Gwin,  Geary,  as  he 
had  heard  of  the  worthies  of  ancient  history;  he  had  visualized 
the  fabled  splendours  of  San  Francisco's  great  gambling  houses,  of 
the  excitements  of  her  fervid,  fevered  life,  as  he  might  have  visual 
ized  the  magnificences  of  pagan  Rome;  he  had  listened  to  tales 
of  her  street  brawls,  her  vast  projects,  the  buccaneering  raids  of 
her  big  men,  her  Vigilance  Committee  of  the  year  before,  as  he 
would  have  listened  to  the  stories  of  one  of  Napoleon's  veterans. 
Now,  by  the  simple  process  of  a  voyage  that  had  seemed  literally 
interminable  but  now  was  past,  he  had  landed  in  the  very  midst  of 
fable.  It  was  like  dying,  he  told  Sherwood  eagerly,  like  going 
irretrievably  to  a  new  planet.  AU  his  old  world  now  seemed 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  23 

as  remote,  as  insubstantial,  as  phantomlike,  as  this  had 
seemed. 

"  Even  yet  I  can't  believe  it's  all  so,"  he  cried,  walking  excitedly 
back  and  forth,  and  waving  an  extinct  cigar.  "  I've  got  to  see  it, 
touch  it !  Why,  I  know  it  all  in  advance.  That  must  be  where 
the  Jenny  Lind  Theatre  stood — before  the  fire — just  opposite?  I 
thought  so!  And  the  bay  used  to  come  up  to  Montgomery 
Street,  only  a  block  down!  You  see,  I  know  it  all!  And  when 
we  came  in,  and  I  saw  all  those  idle  ships  lying  at  anchor,  just  as 
they  have  lain  since  their  crews  deserted  them  in  '49  to  go  to  the 
mines — and  I  know  why  they  haven't  been  used  since,  why  they 
will  continue  to  he  there  at  anchor  until  they  rot  or  sink " 

"Do  you?"  said  Sherwood,  who  was  vastly  amused  and 
greatly  taken  by  this  fresh  enthusiasm. 

"  Yes,  the  clipper  ships ! "  Keith  swept  on.  "  The  first  cargoes 
in  this  new  market  make  the  money — the  fastest  clippers — poor 
old  hulks — but  you  brought  in  the  argonauts! " 

So  he  ran  on,  venting  his  impatience,  so  plainly  divided  between 
his  sense  of  duty  in  staying  near  his  wife  and  his  great  desire  to 
slip  the  leash,  that  Sherwood  smiled  to  himself.  Once  again  he 
mentioned  Coleman  and  the  Vigilantes  of  '51. 

"  I  suppose  he's  around  here?    I  may  see  him?  " 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Sherwood,  "you'll  see  him.  But  if  you  would 
accept  a  bit  of  advice,  go  slow.  You  must  remember  that  such  a 
movement  makes  enemies,  arouses  opposition.  A  great  many 
excellent  people — whom  you  will  know— are  a  little  doubtful 
about  all  that." 

Keith  mentioned  other  names. 

"  I  know  them  all.  They  are  among  the  most  influential  mem 
bers  of  the  bar."  He  glanced  at  a  large  watch.  "Just  at  this 
hour  we  might  find  them  at  the  Monumental  engine  house. 
What  do  you  say?" 

"I  should  like  nothing  better!"  cried  Keith. 

"Your  wife's  illness  is  not  likely  to  require  immediate  at 
tendance?"  suggested  Sherwood  inquiringly. 

"  She's  only  seasick — horrible  voyage — she's  always  under  the 


24  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

weather  on  shipboard — three  weeks  of  it  from  Panama — 
Nan's  as  strong  as  a  horse,"  replied  Keith,  with  obvious  impa 
tience. 

They  walked  across  the  Plaza  to  the  Monumental  fire  engine 
house,  a  square  brick  structure  of  two  stories,  with  wide  folding 
doors,  and  a  bell  cupola  apart.  Keith  paused  to  admire  the 
engine.  It  was  of  the  type  usual  in  those  days,  consisting  of  a 
waterbox  with  inlet  and  outlet  connections,  a  pump  atop,  and 
parallel  pump  rails  on  either  side,  by  the  hand  manipulation  of 
which  the  water  was  thrown  with  force  from  the  box.  The 
vehicle  was  drawn  by  means  of  a  long  rope,  carried  on  a  drum. 
This  could  be  slacked  off  at  need  to  accommodate  as  high  as  a 
hundred  men  or  as  few  as  would  suffice  to  move  her.  So  far  this 
,  engine  differed  in  no  manner  from  those  Keith  had  seen  in  the 
East.  But  this  machine  belonged  to  a  volunteer  company,  one  of 
many  and  all  rivals.  It  was  gayly  coloured.  On  the  sides  of  its 
waterbox  were  scenic  paintings  of  some  little  merit.  The  wood 
work  was  all  mahogany.  Its  brass  ornamentation  was  heavy 
and  brought  to  a  high  state  of  polish.  From  a  light  rack  along 
its  centre  dangled  two  beautifully  chased  speaking  trumpets,  and 
a  row  of  heavy  red-leather  helmets.  Axes  nestled  in  sockets.  A 
screaming  gilt  eagle,  with  wings  outspread,  hovered  atop.  Along 
side  the  engine  stood  the  hook  and  ladder  truck  and  the  hose 
cart.  These  smaller  and  less  important  vehicles  were  painted  in 
the  same  scheme  of  colour,  were  equally  glittering  and  polished. 
Keith  commented  on  all  this  admiringly. 

"Yes,"  said  Sherwood,  "you  see,  since  the  big  fires,  it  has  be 
come  a  good  deal  a  matter  of  pride.  There  are  eleven  volunteer 
companies,  and  they  are  great  rivals  in  everything,  political  and 
social,  as  well  as  in  the  line  of  regular  business,  so  to  speak. 
Mighty  efficient.  You'll  have  to  join  a  company,  of  course; 
and  you  better  look  around  a  little  before  deciding.  Each  rep 
resents  something  different — some  different  element.  They  are 
really  as  much  clubs  as  fire  companies." 

They  mounted  to  the  upper  story,  where  Keith  found  himself 
in  a  long  room,  comfortably  fitted  with  chairs,  tables,  books,  and 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  25 

papers.  A  double  door  showed  a  billiard  table  in  action.  Sher 
wood  indicated  a  closed  door  across  the  hall. 

"Card  rooms,"  said  he  briefly. 

The  air  was  blue  with  smoke  and  noisy  with  rather  vocifera- 
tive  conversation  and  laughter.  Several  groups  of  men  were 
gathered  in  little  knots.  A  negro  in  white  duck  moved  here  and 
there  carrying  a  tray. 

Sherwood  promptly  introduced  Keith  to  many  of  these  men, 
and  he  was  as  promptly  asked  to  name  his  drink.  Keith  caught 
few  of  the  names,  but  he  liked  the  hearty,  instant  cordiality. 
Remarking  on  the  beauty  and  order  of  the  machines,  loud  cries 
arose  for  "Taylor!  Bert  Taylor!"  After  a  moment's  delay  a 
short,  stocky,  very  red-faced  man,  with  rather  a  fussy  manner, 
came  forward. 

"Mr.  Keith,"  said  a  tall,  dark  youth,  with  a  pronounced 
Southern  accent,  "I  want  foh  to  make  you  acquainted  with  Mr. 
Tayloh.  Mr.  Tayloh  is  at  once  the  patron  saint  of  the  Monu- 
mentals,  but  to  a  large  extent  its  'angel'  as  well — I  hope  you 
understand  the  theatrical  significance  of  that  term,  suh.  He  is 
motheh,  fatheh,guardeen,anddrynurse  to  every  stick,  stone,  and 
brick,  every  piece  of  wood,  brass,  or  rubbah,  every  inch  of  hose, 
and  every  man  and  Irishman  on  these  premises."  Taylor  had 
turned  an  embarrassed  brick  red.  "Mr.  Keith,"  went  on  the 
dark  youth,  explanatorily,  "  was  just  savin'  that  though  he  had 
inspected  carefully  many  fire  equipments,  per'fessional  and 
amateur,  he  had  nevah  feasted  his  eyes  on  so  complete  an  outfit 
as  that  of  our  Monumentals." 

Keith  had  not  said  all  this,  but  possibly  he  had  meant  it.  The 
brick-red,  stocky  little  man  was  so  plainly  embarrassed  and 
anxious  to  depart  that  Keith  racked  his  brains  for  something  to 
say.  All  he  could  remember  was  the  manufacturer's  nameplate 
on  the  machine  downstairs. 

"I  see  you  have  selected  the  Hunaman  engine,  sir,"  said  he. 
The  little  man's  eye  brightened. 

"It  may  be,  sir,  that  you  favour  the  piano-box  type — of  the 
sort  made  by  Smith  or  Van  Ness?  "  he  inquired  politely. 


26  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

"It  is  a  point  on  which  my  opinion  is  still  suspended,"  replied 
Keith  with  great  gravity. 

The  little  man  moved  nearer,  and  his  shyness  fell  from  him. 

"Oh,  but  really  there  is  no  choice,  none  whatever!"  he  cried. 
"I'm  sure,  sir,  I  can  convince  you  in  five  minutes.  I  assure 
you  we  have  gone  into  the  subject  thoroughly — this  Hunaman 
cost  us  over  five  thousand  dollars;  and  you  may  be  certain  we 
went  very  thoroughly  into  the  matter  before  making  the  in 
vestment " 

He  went  on  talking  in  his  self-effacing,  deprecatory,  but  very 
earnest  fashion.  The  other  men  in  the  group,  Keith  felt,  were 
watching  with  covert  amusement.  Occasionally,  he  thought  to 
catch  half-concealed  grins  at  his  predicament.  In  less  than  the 
five  minutes  the  claims  of  the  piano  box  were  utterly  demolished. 
Followed  a  dissertation  on  methods  of  fighting  fire ;  and  then  a 
history  of  the  Monumental  Company — its  members,  its  officers, 
and  its  proud  record.  "And  our  bell — did  you  know  that? — 
is  the  bell  used  by  the  Vigilantes —  He  broke  off  suddenly  in 

confusion,  his  embarrassment  descending  on  him  again.  A 
moment  later  he  sidled  away. 

"But  I  found  him  very  interesting!"  protested  Keith,  in 
answer  to  implied  apologies. 

"Bert  is  invaluable  here;  but  he's  a  lunatic  on  fire  apparatus. 
We  couldn't  get  along  without  him,  but  it's  sometimes  mighty 
difficult  to  get  on  with  him,"  said  some  one. 

Keith  was  making  a  good  impression  without  consciously 
trying  to  do  so.  His  high  spirits  of  youth  and  enthusiasm  were 
in  his  favour;  and  as  yet  he  had  no  interests  to  come  into  conflict 
with  those  of  any  one  present.  More  drinks  were  ordered  and 
fresh  cigars  lighted.  From  Sherwood  they  now  learned  that 
Keith  had  but  just  landed,  and  intended  to  settle  as  a  per 
manent  resident.  As  one  man  they  uprose. 

"And  yo'  wastin'  of  yo'  time  indoors!"  mourned  the  dark 
Southerner.  "And  so  much  to  see!" 

Enthusiastically  they  surrounded  him  and  led  him  forth. 
Only  a  very  old,  very  small,  very  decadent  village  is  devoid  of 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  27 

what  is  modernly  called  the  "booster"  spirit.  In  those  early 
days  of  slow  transportation  and  isolated  communities,  local 
patriotism  was  much  stronger  than  it  is  now.  And  something 
about  the  air's  wine  of  the  Pacific  slope  has  always,  and  probably 
will  always,  make  of  every  man  an  earnest  proselyte  for  what 
ever  patch  of  soil  he  calls  home.  But  add  to  these  general 
considerations  the  indubitable  facts  of  harbour,  hill,  health, 
opportunity,  activity,  and  a  genuine  history,  if  of  only  three 
years,  one  can  no  longer  marvel  that  every  man,  each  in  his  own 
way,  saw  visions. 

In  the  course  of  the  next  few  hours  Keith  got  confused  and 
mixed  impressions  of  many  things.  The  fortresslike  warehouses; 
the  plank  roads;  the  new  Jenny  Lind  Theatre;  the  steam  paddies 
eating  steadily  into  the  sand  hills  at  the  edge  of  town;  the 
Dramatic  Museum;  houses  perched  on  the  crumbling  edges  of 
hills;  houses  sunk  far  below  the  level  of  new  streets,  with  tin  cans 
and  ducks  floating  around  them;  new  office  buildings;  places 
where  new  office  buildings  were  going  to  be  or  merely  ought  to  be; 
land  that  in  five  years  was  going  to  be  worth  fabulous  sums;  un 
likely  looking  spots  where  historic  things  had  stood  or  had 
happened — all  these  were  pointed  out  to  him.  He  was  called 
upon  to  exercise  the  eye  of  faith;  to  reconstruct;  to  eliminate  the 
unfinished,  the  mean,  the  sordid;  to  overlook  the  inadequate;  to 
build  the  city  as  it  was  sure  to  be;  and  to  concern  himself  with 
that  and  that  only.  He  admired  Mount  Tamalpais  over  the  way. 
He  was  taken  up  a  high  hill — a  laborious  journey — to  gaze  on  the 
spot  where  he  would  have  been  able  to  see  Mount  Diabolo,  if  only 
Mount  Diabolo  had  been  visible.  And  every  few  blocks  he  was 
halted  and  made  to  shake  hands  with  some  one  who  was  always 
immediately  characterized  to  him  impressively,  under  the  breath 
— "  Colonel  Baker,  sir,  one  of  the  most  divinely  endowed  men 
with  the  gift  of  eloquence,  sir  ";  "  Mr.  Rowlee,  sir,  editor  of  one  of 
our  leading  journals  " ;  "Judge  Caldwell,  sir  at  present  one  of  the 
ornaments  of  our  bench";  "Mr.  Ben  Sansome,  sir,  a  leadin' 
young  man  in  our  young  but  vigorous  social  life";  and  so  on. 

These  introductions  safely  and  ceremoniously  accomplished, 


28  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

each  newcomer  insisted  on  leading  the  way  to  the  nearest 
bar. 

"I  insist,  sir.  It  is  just  the  hour  for  my  afternoon  toddy." 
J  After  some  murmuring  of  expostulation,  the  invitation  was  in 
variably  accepted. 

There  was  always  a  barroom  immediately  adjacent.  Keith 
r  was  struck  by  the  number  and  splendour  of  these  places.  Al 
though  San  Francisco  was  only  three  years  removed  from  the 
tent  stage,  and  although  the  freightage  from  the  centres  of 
civilization  was  appalling,  there  was  no  lack  of  luxury.  Mahog 
any  bars  with  brass  rails,  huge  mirrors  with  gilt  frames,  pyramids 
of  delicate  crystal,  rich  hangings,  oil  paintings  of  doubtful  merit 
but  indisputable  interest,  heavy  chandeliers  of  prism  glasses, 
most  elaborate  free  lunches,  and  white-clad  barkeepers — such 
matters  were  common  to  all.  In  addition,  certain  of  the  more 
pretentious  boasted  special  attractions.  Thus,  one  place  sup 
ported  its  ceiling  on  crystal  pillars;  another — and  this  was 
crowded — had  dashing  young  women  to  serve  the  drinks,  though 
the  mixing  was  done  by  men;  a  third  offered  one  of  the  new  large 
musical  boxes  capable  of  playing  several  very  noisy  tunes ;  a  fourth 
had  imported  a  marvellous  piece  of  mechanism:  a  piece  of 
machinery  run  by  clockwork,  exhibiting  the  sea  hi  motion,  a  ship 
tossing  on  its  bosom;  on  shore,  a  watermill  in  action,  a  train  of 
cars  passing  over  a  bridge,  a  deer  chase  with  hounds,  huntsmen, 
and  game,  all  in  pursuit  or  flight,  and  the  like.  The  barkeepers 
were  marvels  of  dexterity  and  of  especial  knowledge.  At  com 
mand  they  would  deftly  and  skilfully  mix  a  great  variety  of 
drinks — cocktails,  sangarees,  juleps,  bounces,  swizzles,  and  many 
others.  In  mixing  these  drinks  it  was  their  especial  pride  to 
pass  them  at  arm's  length  from  one  tall  glass  to  another,  the  fluid 
describing  a  long  curve  through  the  air,  but  spilling  never  a  drop. 

In  these  places  Keith  pledged  in  turn  each  of  his  new  acquaint 
ances,  and  was  pledged  by  them.  Never,  he  thought,  had  he 
met  so  jolly,  so  interesting,  so  experienced  a  lot  of  men.  They 
had  not  only  lived  history,  they  had  made  it.  They  were  so  full 
©f  high  spirits  and  the  spirit  of  play.  His  heart  warmed  to  them 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  29 

mightily;  and  over  and  over  he  told  himself  that  he  had  made  no 
mistake  in  his  long  voyage  to  new  fields  of  endeavour.  On  the 
other  hand,  he,  too,  made  a  good  impression.  Naturally  the 
numerous  drinks  had  something  to  do  with  this  mutual  esteem; 
but  also  it  was  a  fact  that  his  boyish,  laughing,  half -reckless  spirit 
had  much  in  common  with  the  spirit  of  the  times.  Quite  ac 
cidentally  he  discovered  that  the  tall,  dark  Southern  youth  was 
Calhoun  Bennett.  This  then  seemed  to  him  a  remarkable  co 
incidence. 

"  Why,  I  have  a  letter  of  introduction  to  you! "  he  said. 

Again  and  again  he  recurred  to  this  point,  insisting  on  telling 
everybody  how  extraordinary  the  situation  was. 

"Here  I've  been  talking  to  him  for  three  hours,"  he  exclaimed, 
"  and  never  knew  who  he  was,  and  all  the  time  I  had  a  letter  of 
introduction  to  him! " 

This  and  a  warm  irresponsible  glow  of  comradeship  were  the 
sole  indications  of  the  drinks  he  had  had.  Keith  possessed  a 
strong  head.  Some  of  the  others  were  not  so  fortunate.  Little 
Rowlee  was  frankly  verging  on  drunkenness. 

The  afternoon  wind  was  beginning  to  die,  and  the  wisps  of 
high  fog  that  had,  since  two  o'clock,  been  flying  before  it,  now 
paused  and  forgathered  to  veil  the  sky.  Dusk  was  falling. 

"Look  here,"  suggested  Rowlee  suddenly;  "let's  go  to 
Allen's  Branch  and  have  a  good  dinner,  and  then  drift  around  to 
Belle's  place  and  see  if  there's  any  excitement  to  be  had  there 
abouts." 

"Belle— rour  local  Aspasia,  sah,"  breathed  a  very  elaborate, 
pompous,  elderly  Southerner,  who  had  been  introduced  as  Major 
Marmaduke  Miles. 

But  this  suggestion  brought  to  Keith  a  sudden  realization  of 
the  lateness  of  the  hour,  the  duration  of  his  absence,  and  the  fact 
that,  not  only  had  he  not  yet  settled  his  wife  in  rooms  of  her  own, 
but  had  left  her  on  the  hands  of  strangers.  For  the  first  time  he 
noticed  that  Sherwood  was  not  of  the  party. 

"When  did  Sherwood  leave?"  he  cried. 

"Oh,  a  right  sma't  time  ago,"  said  Bennett. 


30  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

Keith  started  to  his  feet. 

" I  should  like  to  join  you,"  said  he,  "but  it  is  impossible  now." 

A  chorus  of  expostulation  went  up  at  this. 

"But  I  haven't  settled  down  yet!"  persisted  Keith.  "I  don't 
know  even  whether  my  baggage  is  at  the  hotel." 

They  waived  aside  his  objections;  but  finding  him  obdurate, 
perhaps  a  little  panicky  over  the  situation,  they  gave  over  urging 
the  point. 

"But  you  must  join  us  later  in  the  evening,"  said  they. 

The  idea  grew. 

"I  tell  you  what,"  said  Rowlee,  with  half -drunken  gravity; 
"he's  got  to  come  back.  We  can't  afford  to  lose  him  this  early. 
And  he  can't  afford  to  lose  us.  The  best  life  of  this  glorious 
commonwealth  is  as  yet  a  sealed  book  to  him.  It  is  our  sacred 
duty,  gentlemen,  to  break  those  seals.  What  does  he  know  of 
our  temples  of  Terpsichore?  Our  altars  to  the  gods  of  chance? 
Our  bowers  of  the  Cyprians?  " 

He  would  have  gone  on  at  length,  but  Keith,  laughingly  pro 
testing,  trying  to  disengage  himself  from  the  detaining  hands, 
broke  in  with  a  promise  to  return.  But  little  Rowlee  was  not 
satisfied. 

"  I  think  we  should  take  no  chances,"  he  stated.  " How  would 
it  be  to  appoint  a  committee  to  'company  him  and  see  that  he 
gets  back?" 

Keith's  head  was  clear  enough  to  realize  with  dismay  that 
this  brilliant  idea  was  about  to  take.  But  Ben  Sansome,  seizing 
the  situation,  locked  his  arm  firmly  in  Keith's. 

"I'll  see  personally  that  he  gets  back,"  said  he. 


THAT  was  mighty  good  of  you;  you  saved  my  life!"  said 
Keith  to  him,  gratefully,  as  they  walked  up  the  street. 
"You  couldn't  have  that  tribe  of  wild  Indians  de 
scending  on  your  wife,"  said  Sansome.  He  had  kept  pace  with 
the  others,  but  showed  it  not  at  all.  Sansome  was  a  slender, 
languid,  bored,  quiet  sort  of  person,  exceedingly  well  dressed  in 
the  height  of  fashion,  speaking  with  a  slight,  well-bred  drawl, 
given  to  looking  rather  superciliously  from  beneath  his  fine  eye 
lashes,  almost  too  good  looking.  He  liked,  or  pretended  he  liked, 
to  view  life  from  the  discriminating  spectator's  standpoint;  and 
remained  unstirred  by  stirring  events.  He  prided  himself  on  the 
delicacy  of  his  social  tact.  In  the  natural  course  of  evolution  he 
would  probably  never  marry,  and  would  become  in  time  an  "old 
beau,"  haunting  ballrooms  with  reminiscences  of  old-time  belles. 

Keith,  meeting  the  open  air,  began  to  feel  his  exhilaration. 

"  What  I  need  is  my  head  under  a  pump  for  about  ten  seconds," 
he  told  Sansome  frankly.  "  Lord !  It  was  just  about  time  I  got 
away." 

Arrived  at  the  hotel,  Sansome  said  good-bye,  but  Keith  would 
have  none  of  it. 

"No,  no!"  he  cried.  "  You  must  come  in,  now  you've  come  so 
far!  I  want  you  to  meet  my  wife;  she'll  be  delighted! " 

And  Sansome,  whose  celebrated  social  tact  had  been  slightly 
obscured  by  his  potations,  finally  consented.  Truth  to  tell,  it 
would  have  been  a  little  difficult  for  him  to  have  got  away. 
Poising  his  light  stick  and  gloves  in  his  left  hand,  giving  his 
drooping  moustache  a  last  twirl,  and  settling  his  heavy  cravat 
in  place,  he  followed  Keith  down  the  little  hall  to  the  Sherwoods' 
apartments. 

31 


32  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

At  the  knock  Keith  was  at  once  invited  to  enter.  The  men 
threw  open  the  door.  Sansome  stared  with  all  his  might. 

Nan  Keith  had  made  the  usual  miraculous  recovery  from  sea 
sickness  once  she  felt  the  solid  ground  beneath  her.  The  beauti 
ful  baby- textured  skin  had  come  alive  with  soft  colour,  her  dark, 
wide,  liquid  eyes  had  brightened.  She  had  assumed  a  soft,  silken, 
wrapperlike  garment  with  a  wide  sash,  borrowed  from  Mrs. 
Sherwood;  and  at  the  moment  was  seated  in  an  enveloping  arm 
chair  beneath  a  wide-shaded  lamp.  The  firm,  soft  lines  of  her 
figure,  uncorseted  in  this  negligee,  were  suggested  beneath  the 
silk.  Sansome  stopped  short,  staring,  his  eyes  kindling  with 
interest.  Here  was  something  not  only  new  but  different — a 
distinct  addition.  Sansome,  like  most  dilettantes,  was  something 
of  a  phrase  maker,  and  prided  himself  on  the  apt  word.  He 
found  it  here,  to  his  own  satisfaction,  at  least. 

"Her  beauty  is  positively  creamy !"  he  murmured  to  him 
self. 

At  sight  of  her  Keith  crossed  directly  to  her,  full  of  a  sudden, 
engaging,  tender  solicitude. 

"How  are  you  feeling  now,  honey? "  he  inquired.  "Quite  re 
covered?  All  right  now?  " 

But  Nan  was  inclined  to  be  a  little  vexed  and  reproachful.  She 
had  been  left  alone,  with  strangers,  altogether  too  long.  Keith 
excused  himself  volubly  and  convincingly — she  had  been  asleep 
— she  was  much  better  off  not  being  disturbed — that  this  was 
true  was  proven  by  results — she  was  blooming,  positively  bloom 
ing — as  fresh  as  a  rose  leaf — of  course  it  was  rather  an  imposition 
on  the  Sherwoods,  but  the  baggage  hadn't  come  up  yet,  and 
they  were  kind  people,  our  sort,  the  sort  for  whom  the  word 
obligation  did  not  exist — he,  personally,  had  not  intended  being 
gone  so  long,  but  by  the  rarest  of  chances  he  had  run  across  some 
of  the  men  to  whom  he  had  introductions,  and  they  had  been 
most  kind  in  making  him  acquainted — nothing  was  more  im 
portant  to  a  young  lawyer  than  to  "establish  connections" — it 
did  not  do  to  overlook  a  chance. 

He  urged  all  this,  and  more,  with  all  his  usual,  vital,  enthusi- 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  33 

astic  force.  In  spite  of  herself,  she  was  overborne  to  a  re 
proachful  forgiveness. 

In  the  meantime  Mrs.  Sherwood  had  gone  over  to  where  Ben 
Sansome  was  still  standing  by  the  door.  Sansome  did  not  like 
Mrs.  Sherwood.  He  considered  that  she  had  no  social  tact  at  all. 
This  was  mainly — though  he  did  not  analyze  it — because  she  was 
quite  apt  to  speak  the  direct  and  literal  truth  to  him;  because  she 
had  a  disquieting  self-confidence  and  competence  in  place  of 
appropriate,  graceful,  feminine  dependence;  but  especially  be 
cause  she  had  never  and  would  never  play  up  to  his  game. 

"Are  you  making  a  formal  afternoon  call,  Ben?"  she  asked  in 
her  cool,  mocking  voice.  "Aren't  you  really  a  little  de  trop?  " 

"  I  did  not  come  of  my  own  volition  at  this  time,  I  assure  you," 
he  replied  a  trifle  stiffly.  The  thought  that  he  was  suspected  of  a 
blunder  in  social  custom  stung  him;  as,  in  a  rather  lazily  amused 
way,  she  knew  it  would. 

At  this  reply  she  glanced  keenly  toward  Keith,  then  nodded 
slowly. 

"I  see,"  she  conceded. 

Sansome  moved  to  go.  But  at  this  Keith's  attention  was 
attracted.  He  sprang  forward,  seized  Sansome's  arm,  insisted 
on  introducing  him  to  Nan,  was  over-effusive,  over-cordial, 
buoyant.  Both  Sansome  and  Mrs.  Sherwood  were  experienced 
enough  to  yield  entirely  to  his  mood.  They  understood  per 
fectly  that  at  the  least  opposition  Keith  was  in  just  the  condition 
to  reveal  himself,  perhaps,  to  break  over  the  frail  barrier  that 
separates  exhilaration  from  loss  of  self-control.  They  saw  also 
that  Nan  had  no  suspicion  of  the  state  of  affairs.  Indeed,  fol 
lowing  the  reaction  from  her  long  voyage  and  her  illness,  she 
responded  and  played  up  to  Keith's  high  spirits.  Neither  wanted 
her  to  grasp  the  situation  if  it  could  be  avoided :  Mrs.  Sherwood 
from  genuine  good  feeling,  Sansome  because  of  the  social  awk 
wardness  and  bad  taste.  Besides,  he  felt  that  his  presence  at 
such  a  scene  would  be  a  very  bad  beginning  for  himself. 

"No,  you're  not  going,"  Keith  was  insisting;  "you  don't 
realize  what  a  celebration  this  is!  Here  we've  pulled  up  all  our 


34  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

roots,  haven't  we,  Nan?  and  come  thousands  of  miles  to  a  new 
country,  a  wonderful  country;  and  the  very  first  day  of  our  land 
ing  you  want  us  to  act  as  though  nothing  had  happened! " 

Nan  nodded  a  vigorous  assent  to  his  implied  reference  to  her. 

"And  what  we're  going  to  do  is  to  celebrate,"  insisted  Keith. 
"You're  all  going  to  dine  with  us.  No,  I  insist!  You're  the 
only  friends  we  have  out  here,  and  you  aren't  going  to  desert  us 
the  very  first  day  we  need  you." 

"I  wish  you  would!"  cried  Nan,  sitting  forward  eagerly. 

They  tried  to  expostulate,  to  get  out  of  it,  but  without  avail.  It 
seemed  easier  to  promise.  Keith  rushed  out  to  look  for  his  bag 
gage,  to  arrange  for  rooms,  leaving  the  three  together  to  await 
his  return. 


VI 

BOTH  Mrs.  Sherwood  and  Sansome  applied  themselves  to 
relieving  whatever  embarrassment  Nan  might  feel  over 
this  unusual  situation.  Sansome  was  possessed  of  great 
charm  and  social  experience.  He  could  play  the  game  of  light 
conversation  to  perfection.  By  way  of  bridging  the  pause  in 
events,  he  set  himself  to  describing  the  society  in  which  the 
Keiths  would  shortly  find  themselves  launched.  His  remarks 
were  practically  a  monologue,  interspersed  by  irrepressible  gur 
gles  of  laughter  from  Nan.  Mrs.  Sherwood  sat  quietly  by.  She 
did  not  laugh,  but  it  was  evident  she  was  amused.  In  this  con 
genial  atmosphere  Sansome  outdid  himself. 

"  They  are  all  afraid  of  each  other,"  he  told  her,  "  because  they 
don't  know  anything  about  each  other.  Each  ex-washerwoman 
thinks  the  other  ex-washerwoman  must  have  been  at  least  a 
duchess  at  home.  It's  terribly  funny.  If  they  can  get  hold 
of  six  porcelain  statuettes,  a  half-dozen  antimacassars,  some  gilt 
chairs,  and  a  glass  bell  of  wax  flowers,  they  imagine  they're  ele 
gantly  furnished.  And  their  functions!  I  give  you  my  word,  I'd 
as  soon  attend  a  reasonably  pleasant  funeral!  Some  of  them  try 
to  entertain  by  playing  intellectual  games — you  know,  rhyming 
or  spelling  games — seriously! "  He  went  on  to  describe  some  of 
the  women,  mentioning  no  names,  however.  ''You'll  recognize 
them  when  you  meet  them,"  he  assured  her.  "  There's  one  we'll 
call  the  Social  Agitator — she  isn't  happy  unless  she  is  running 
things.  I  believe  she  spent  two  weeks  once  in  London — or  else 
she  buys  her  boots  there — anyway,  when  discussions  get  lively 
she  squelches  them  by  saying,  'Of  course,  my  dear,  that  may  be 

absolutely  au  fait  in  New  York — but  in  London '     It  corks 

them  up  every  time.    And  'pon  honour,  three  quarters  of  the 

35 


36  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

time  she's  quite  wrong!  Then  there's  the  Lady  Thug.  Square 
jaw,  square  shoulder,  sort  of  bulging  out  at  the  top — you  know — 
in  decollete  one  cannot  help  thinking  'one  more  struggle  and 
she'll  be  free!'" 

"Oh,  fie,  Mr.  Sansome,"  laughed  Nan,  half  shocked. 

Sansome  rattled  on.  The  ultimate  effect  was  to  convey 
an  impression  of  San  Francisco  society — such  as  existed  at 
all — as  stodgy,  stupid,  pretentious,  unattractive.  Nan  was 
immensely  amused,  but  inclined  to  take  it  all  with  a  grain  of 
salt. 

"Mrs.  Sherwood  doesn't  bear  you  out,"  she  told  him,  "and 
she's  the  only  one  I've  seen  yet.  I  think  we're  going  to  have  a 
pretty  good  time.  " 

But  at  this  point  Keith  returned.  He  was  quite  sobered  from 
his  temporary  exhilaration,  but  still  most  cordial  and  enthusiastic 
over  his  little  party.  Sansome  noted  with  quiet  amusement  that 
his  light  curly  hair  was  damp.  Evidently  he  had  taken  his  own 
prescription  as  to  the  pump. 

"Well,"  he  announced,  "I  have  a  room — such  as  it  is.  Can't 
say  much  for  it.  The  baggage  is  all  here;  nothing  missing,  for  a 
wonder.  I've  spoken  to  the  manager  about  dinner  for  five."  He 
turned  to  Nan  with  brightening  interest.  "  Guess  what  I  saw  on 
the  bill  of  fare!  Grizzly  bear  steak!  Think  of  that!  I  ordered 
some." 

Sansome  groaned  comically. 

"What's  the  matter?"  inquired  Keith. 

"Did  you  ever  try  it  before?  Tough,  stringy,  unfit  for  human 
consumption." 

But  Keith  was  fascinated  by  the  name  of  the  thing. 

"There's  plenty  else,"  he  urged  defensively,  "and  I  always  try 
everything  once." 

It  was  agreed  that  they  should  all  meet  again  after  an  hour. 
Sansome  renewed  his  promises  to  be  on  hand. 

The  room  Keith  had  engaged  was  on  the  second  story,  and 
quite  a  different  sort  of  affair  from  that  of  the  Sherwoods'. 
Indeed  it  was  little  more  than  a  pine  box,  containing  only  the 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  37 

bare  necessities.  One  window  looked  out  on  an  unkempt  back 
yard,  now  mercifully  hidden  by  darkness. 

"This  is  pretty  tough,"  said  Keith,  "but  it  is  the  very  best  I 
could  do.  And  the  price  is  horrible.  We'll  have  to  hunt  up  a 
living  place  about  the  first  thing  we  do." 

"Oh,  it's  all  right,"  said  Nan  indifferently.  The  lassitude  of 
seasickness  had  left  her,  and  the  excitement  of  new  surroundings 
was  beginning.  She  felt  gently  stirred  by  the  give  and  take  of 
the  light  conversation  in  the  Sherwoods'  room;  and,  although  she 
did  not  quite  realize  it,  she  was  responding  to  the  stimulation  of 
having  made  a  good  impression.  Her  subconscious  self  was 
perfectly  aware  that  in  the  silken  negligee,  under  the  pink-shaded 
lamp,  her  clear  soft  skin,  the  pure  lines  of  her  radiant  childlike 
beauty,  the  shadows  of  her  tumbled  hair,  had  been  very  appeal 
ing  and  effective.  She  moved  about  a  trifle  restlessly,  looking  at 
things  without  seeing  them.  "I'm  glad  to  see  the  brown  trunk. 
Open  it,  will  you,  dear?  Heavens,  what  a  mirror!"  She  sur 
veyed  herself  in  the  flawed  glass,  moving  from  side  to  side, 
fascinated  at  the  strange  distortions. 

"I  call  it  positive  extortion,  charging  what  they  do  for  a  room 
like  this,"  grumbled  Keith,  busy  at  the  trunk.  "  The  Sherwoods 
must  pay  a  mint  of  money  for  theirs.  I  wonder  what  he  does! " 

Her  attention  attracted  by  this  subject,  she  arrested  her 
posing  before  the  mirror. 

"They  certainly  are  quick  to  take  the  stranger  in,"  she 
commented  lightly. 

Something  in  her  tone  arrested  Keith's  attention,  and  he 
stopped  fussing  at  his  keys.  Nan  had  meant  little  by  the  re 
mark.  It  had  expressed  the  vague  instinctive  recoil  of  the 
woman  brought  up  in  rather  conventional  circumstances  and  in  a 
conservative  community  from  too  sudden  intimacy,  nothing 
more.  She  did  not  herself  understand  this. 

"  Don't  you  like  the  Sherwoods?  "  he  instantly  demanded,  with 
the  masculine  insistence  on  dissecting  every  butterfly. 

"Why,  she's  charming!"  said  Nan,  opening  her  eyes  in 
surprise.  "  Of  course,  I  like  her  immensely ! " 


38  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

"I  should  think  so,"  grumbled  Keith.  "They  certainly  have 
been  mighty  good  to  us." 

But  Nan  had  dropped  her  negligee  about  her  feet,  and  was 
convulsed  at  the  figure  made  of  her  slim  young  body  by  the  dis 
torted  mirror. 

"Come  here,  Milt,"  she  gasped. 

She  clung  to  him,  gurgling  with  laughter,  pointing  one  shaking 
finger  at  the  monstrosity  in  the  glass. 

"Look — look  what  you  married!" 

They  dressed  gayly.  His  optimism  and  enthusiasm  boiled 
over  again.  It  was  a  shame,  his  leaving  her  all  that  afternoon,  he 
reiterated;  but  she  had  no  idea  what  giant  strides  he  had  made. 
He  told  her  of  the  city,  and  he  enumerated  some  of  the  acquaint 
ances  he  had  made — Calhoun  Bennett,  Bert  Taylor,  Major  Mar- 
maduke  Miles,  Michael  Rowlee,  Judge  Caldwell,  and  others. 
They  had  been  most  cordial  to  him,  most  kind ;  they  had  taken 
him  in  without  delay. 

"It's  the  spirit  of  the  West,  Nan,"  he  cried,  "hospitable,  un 
suspicious,  free,  eager  to  welcome!  Oh,  this  is  going  to  be  the 
place  for  me;  opportunity  waits  at  every  corner.  They  are  not 
tied  down  by  conventions,  by  the  way  somebody  else  has  done 
things- 
He  went  on  rapidly  to  detail  to  her  some  of  the  things  he  had 
been  told — the  contemplated  public  improvements,  the  levelling 
of  the  sand  hills,  the  building  of  a  city  out  of  nothing. 

"Why,  Nan,  do  you  realize  that  only  four  years  ago  this  very 
Plaza  had  only  six  small  buildings  around  it,  that  there  were  only 
three  two-story  structures  in  town,  that  the  population  was 
only  about  five  hundred — there  are  thirty-five  thousand  now, 

that "  he  rattled  on,  detailing  his  recently  acquired  statistics. 

Oh,  potent  influence  of  the  Western  spirit — already,  eight  hours 
after  his  landing  on  California's  shores,  Milton  Keith  was  a 
"booster." 

With  an  expansion  of  relief  that  only  a  woman  could  fully 
appreciate,  Nan  unpacked  and  put  on  a  frock  that  had  nothing 
whatever  to  do  with  the  sea  voyage,  and  which  she  had  not  ioi 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  39 

some  time  seen.  In  ordinary  accustomed  circumstances  she 
would  never  have  thought  of  donning  so  elaborate  a  toilette  for  a 
hotel  dining-room,  but  she  was  yielding  to  reaction.  In  her  way 
she  was  "  celebrating, "  just  as  was  Keith.  Her  hair  she  did  low 
after  the  fashion  of  the  tune,  and  bound  it  to  her  brow  by  a 
bandeau  of  pearls.  The  gown  itself  was  pale  green  and  filmy. 
It  lent  her  a  flowerlike  semblance  that  was  very  fresh  and 
ovely. 

"By  Jove,  Nan,  you  certainly  have  recovered  from  the  sea!" 
cried  Keith,  and  insisted  on  kissing  her. 

"Look  how  you've  mussed  me  all  up!"  chided  Nan,  but  with 
out  irritation. 

They  found  the  other  three  waiting  for  them,  and  without 
delay  entered  the  dining-room.  This,  as  indeed  all  the  lower 
story,  was  in  marked  contrast  of  luxury  with  the  bare  pine  bed- 
r^oms  upstairs.  Long  red  velvet  curtains,  held  back  by  tasselled 
silken  cords,  draped  the  long  windows;  fluted  columns  at  regular 
intervals  upheld  the  ceiling;  the  floor  was  polished  and  slippery; 
the  tables  shone  with  white  and  silver.  An  obese  and  tremen 
dous  darkey  in  swallowtail  waved  a  white-gloved  hand  at  them, 
turned  ponderously,  and  preceded  them  down  the  aisle  with  the 
pom*  of  a  drum  major.  His  dignity  was  colossal,  awe  inspiring, 
ror^e.  Their  progress  became  a  procession,  a  triumphal  pro 
cession,  such  as  few  of  Caesar's  generals  had  ever  known.  Arrived 
at  the  predestined  table,  he  stood  one  side  while  menials  drew 
out  the  chairs.  Then  he  marched  tremendously  back  to  the 
main  door,  his  chin  high,  his  expression  haughty,  his  backbone 
rigid.  This  head  waiter  was  the  feature  of  the  Bella  Union  Hotel, 
just  as  the  glass  columns  were  the  feature  of  the  Empire,  or  the 
clockwork  mechanism  of  the  El  Dorado. 

The  dinner  itself  went  well.  Everybody  seemed  to  be  friendly 
and  at  ease,  but  by  one  of  those  strange  and  sudden  social  transi 
tions  it  was  rather  subdued.  This  was  for  various  reasons.  Nan 
Keith,  after  her  brief  reaction,  found  herself  again  suffering  from 
the  lassitude  and  fatigue  of  a  long  voyage;  she  needed  a  night's 
rest  and  knew  it.  Keith  himself  was  a  trifle  sleepy  as  an  after 


40  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

affect  to  the  earlier  drinking.  Sherwood  was  naturally  reserved 
and  coolly  observing ;  Mrs.  Sherwood  was  apparently  somehow  on 
guard;  and  Sansome,  as  always,  took  his  tone  from  those  about 
him.  The  wild  spirits  of  the  hour  before  had  taken  their  flight. 
It  was,  however,  a  pleasant  dinner — without  constraint,  as 
among  old  friends.  After  the  meal  they  went  to  the  public  par 
lour,  a  splendid  but  rather  dismal  place.  Sherwood  almost 
immediately  excused  himself.  After  a  short  and  somewhat  awk 
ward  interval,  Nan  decided  she  would  go  to  bed  for  her  needed 
rest. 

"You  won't  think  me  rude,  I  know,"  said  she. 

Keith,  whose  buoyant  temper  had  been  sadly  divided  betweer 
a  genuine  wish  to  do  the  proper  and  dutiful  thing  by  his  wife  an 
a  great  desire  to  see  more  of  this  fascinating  city,  rose  with  s*. 
evident  an  alacrity  under  restraint  that  Mrs.  Sherwood  scarcely 
concealed  a  smile.     She  said  her  adieux  at  the  same  time, 


left  the  room,  troubling  herself  only  to  the  extent  of  that  ancien    .t 
platitude  about  "letters  to  write." 


VII 

I  THINK  we'll  find  most  of  the  proper  crowd  down  at  the 
Empire,"  observed  Sansome  as  the  two  picked  their  way 
across  the  Plaza.     "That  is  one  of  the  few  old-fashioned, 
respectable  gambling  places  left  to  us.    The  town  is  not  what  it 
used  to  be  hi  a  sporting  way.    It  was  certainly  wide  open  in  the 
good  old  days!" 

The  streets  at  night  were  ill  lighted,  except  where  a  blaze  of 
illumination  poured  from  the  bigger  saloons.  The  interims 
were  dark,  and  the  side  streets  and  alleys  stygian.  "None  too 
safe,  either,"  Sansome  understated  the  case.  Many  people  were 
abroad,  but  Keith  noticed  that  there  seemed  to  be  no  idlers;  every 
one  appeared  to  be  going  somewhere  in  particular.  After  a  short 
stroll  they  entered  the  Empire,  which,  Sansome  explained,  was 
the  most  stylish  and  frequented  gambling  place  in  town,  a  sort  of 
evening  club  for  the  well-to-do  and  powerful.  Keith  looked  over 
a  very  large  room  or  hall,  at  the  lower  end  of  which  an  alcove 
made  a  sort  of  raised  stage  with  footlights.  Here  sat  a  dozen 
"nigger  minstrels"  with  banjos  strurnming,  and  bawling 
away  at  top  pressure.  An  elaborate  rosewood  bar  ran  down  the 
whole  length  at  one  side — an  impressive  polished  bar,  perhaps 
sixty  feet  long,  with  a  white-clad,  immaculate  barkeeper  for  every 
ten  feet  of  it.  Big  mirrors  of  French  plate  reflected  the  whole 
room,  and  on  the  shelf  in  front  of  them  glittered  crystal  glasses  of 
all  shapes  and  sizes,  arranged  in  pyramids  and  cubes.  The  whole 
of  the  main  floor  was  carpeted  heavily.  Down  tjie  centre  were 
stationed  two  rows  of  gambling  tables,  where  various  games 
could  be  played — faro,  keeno,  roulette,  stud  poker,  dice.  Be 
yond  these  gambling  tables,  on  the  other  side  of  the  room  from 
the  bar,  were  small  tables,  easy  chairs  of  ample  proportions, 

41 


42  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

lounges,  and  a  fireplace.  Everything  was  most  ornate.  The 
ceilings  and  walls  were  ivory  white  and  much  gilt.  Heavy  chan 
deliers,  with  the  usual  glass  prisms  and  globes,  revolved  slowly 
or  swayed  from  side  to  side.  Huge  oil  paintings  with  shaded  top- 
and  foot-lights  occupied  all  vacant  spaces  in  the  walls.  They 
were  "valued"  at  from  ten  to  thirty  thousand  dollars  apiece,  and 
that  fact  was  advertised.  "  Leda  and  the  Swan,"  "  The  Birth  of 
Venus,"  "  The  Rape  of  the  Sabines,"  "  Cupid  and  Psyche"  were 
some  of  the  classic  themes  treated  as  having  taken  place  in  a 
warm  climate.  "Susannah  and  the  Elders"  and  "  Salome  Danc 
ing"  gave  the  Biblical  flavour.  The  "Bath  of  the  Harem"  fin 
ished  the  collection.  No  canvas  was  of  less  size  than  seven  by 
ten  feet. 

The  floor  was  filled  with  people.  A  haze  of  blue  smoke  hung 
in  the  air.  There  was  no  loud  noise  except  from  the  minstrel 
stage  at  the  end.  A  low  hum  of  talk,  occasionally  accented, 
buzzed  continuously.  Many  of  the  people  wandering  about, 
leaning  against  the  bar,  or  integers  of  the  compact  groups  around 
the  gambling  tables,  were  dressed  in  the  height  of  fashion;  but,  on 
the  other  hand,  certainly  half  were  in  the  roughest  sort  of  clothes 
— floppy  old  slouch  hats,  worn  flannel  shirts,  top  boots  to  which 
dried  mud  was  clinging.  These  men  were  as  well  treated  as  the 
others. 

Fascinated,  Keith  would  have  liked  to  linger,  but  Sansome 
threaded  his  way  toward  the  farther  corner.  As  Keith  passed 
near  one  of  the  close  groups  around  a  gambling  table,  it  parted  mo 
mentarily,  and  he  looked  into  the  eyes  of  the  man  in  charge,  cold, 
passionless,  aloof,  eyes  neither  friendly  nor  unfriendly.  And  he 
saw  the  pale  skin;  the  weary,  bored,  immobile  features;  the  metic 
ulous  neat  dress;  the  long,  deft  fingers;  and  caught  the  withdrawn, 
deadly,  exotic  personality  of  the  professional  gambler  on  duty. 

The  whole  place  was  unlike  anything  he  had  ever  seen  before. 
Whether  it  was  primarily  a  bar,  a  gambling  resort,  or  a  sort  of  a 
public  club  with  trimmings,  he  could  not  have  determined.  Many 
of  those  present,  perhaps  a  majority,  were  neither  gambling  nor 
drinking;  they  seemed  not  to  be  adding  to  the  profits  of  the 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  43 

place  in  any  way,  but  either  wandered  about  or  sat  in  the  easy 
chairs,  smoking,  reading  papers,  or  attending  to  the  occasional 
outbreaks  of  the  minstrels.  It  was  most  interesting. 

They  joined  a  group  in  the  far  corner.  A  white- clad  negro 
instantly  brought  them  chairs,  and  hovered  discreetly  near. 
Among  those  sitting  about  Keith  recognized  several  he  had  met 
in  the  afternoon;  and  to  several  more  he  was  introduced.  Of 
these  the  one  who  most  instantly  impressed  him  was  called 
Morrell.  This  was  evidently  a  young  Englishman,  a  being  of  a 
type  raised  quite  abundantly  in  England,  but  more  rarely  seen  in 
native  Americans — the  lean-faced,  rather  flat-cheeked,  high- 
cheek-boned,  aquiline-nosed,  florid-complexioned,  silent,  clean- 
built  sort  that  would  seem  to  represent  the  high-bred,  finely 
drawn  product  of  a  long  social  evolution.  These  traits  when 
seen  in  the  person  of  a  native-born  American  generally  do 
represent  this  fineness;  but  the  English,  having  been  longer  at  the 
production  of  their  race,  can  often  produce  the  outward  sem 
blance  without  necessarily  the  inner  reality.  Many  of  us  even 
now  do  not  quite  realize  that  fact;  certainly  in  1852  most  of  us  did 
not.  Morrell  was  dressed  in  riding  breeches,  carried  a  short 
bamboo  crop,  smiled  engagingly  to  exhibit  even,  strong,  white 
teeth,  and  had  little  to  say. 

"A  beverage  seems  called  for,"  remarked  Judge  Caldwell,  a 
gross,  explosive,  tobacco-chewing  man,  with  a  merry,  reckless 
eye.  The  order  given,  the  conversation  swung  back  to  the 
topic  that  had  occupied  it  before  Keith  and  Sansome  had 
arrived. 

It  seemed  that  an  individual  there  present,  Markle  by  name — 
a  tall,  histrionic,  dark  man  with  a  tossing  mane — conceived  him 
self  to  have  been  insulted  by  some  one  whose  name  Keith  did  not 
catch,  and  had  that  very  afternoon  issued  warning  that  he  would 
"  shoot  on  sight."  Some  of  the  older  men  were  advising  him  to 
go  slow. 

"But,  gentlemen,"  cried  Markle  heatedly,  "none  of  you  would 
stand  such  conduct  from  anybody !  What  are  we  coming  to?  I'll 
get  that as  sure  as  God  made  little  apples." 


44  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

"That's  all  right;  I  don't  blame  yo',"  argued  Calhoun 
Bennett.  "Do  not  misunderstand  me,  suh.  I  agree  with  yo', 
lock,  stock,  an'  barrel.  My  point  is  that  yo'  must  be  circum 
spect.  Challenge  him,  that's  the  way." 

"He  isn't  worth  my  challenge,  sir,  nor  the  challenge  of  any 
decent  man.  You  know  that,  sir." 

"Well,  street  shootings  have  got  to  be  a  little,  a  little " 

He  fell  silent,  and  Keith  looked  up  in  surprise  to  see  why.  A 
man  was  slowly  passing  the  table.  He  was  a  thick,  tall,  strong 
man,  moving  with  a  freedom  that  bespoke  smoothly  working 
muscles.  His  complexion  was  florid;  and  this,  in  conjunction 
with  a  sweeping  blue-black  moustache,  gave  him  exactly  the 
appearance  of  a  gambler  or  bartender.  Only  as  he  passed  the 
table  and  responded  gravely  to  the  formal  salutes,  Keith  caught  a 
flash  of  his  eye.  It  was  gray,  hard  as  steel,  forceful,  but  so  far 
from  being  cold  it  seemed  to  glow  and  change  with  an  inner  fire. 
The  bartender  impression  was  swept  into  limbo  forever. 

"That's  one  good  reason  why,"  said  Calhoun  Bennett,  when 
this  man  had  gone  on. 

But  Markle  overflowed  with  a  torrent  of  vituperative  pro 
fanity.  His  face  was  congested  and  purple  with  the  violence 
of  his  emotions.  Keith  stared  in  astonishment  at  the  depth  of 
hatred  stirred.  He  turned  for  explanation  to  the  man  next  him, 
Judge  Girvin,  a  gentleman  of  the  old  school,  weighty,  authorita 
tive,  a  little  pompous. 

"That  is  Coleman,"  Judge  Girvin  told  him.  "  W.  T.  Coleman, 
the  leader  of  the  vigilance  movement  of  last  year." 

"That's  why,"  repeated  Calhoun  Bennett,  with  quiet  vindic- 
tiveness,  "lawlessness,  disrespect  foh  law  and  order,  mob  rule. 
Since  this  strangler  business,  no  man  can  predict  what  the  law 
less  element  may  do!" 

This  speech  was  the  signal  for  an  outburst  against  the  Vigilance 
Committee,  so  unanimous  and  hearty  that  Keith  was  rather 
taken  aback.  He  voiced  his  bewilderment. 

"Why,  gentlemen,  I  am,  of  course,  only  in  the  most  distant 
touch  with  these  events;  but  the  impression  East  is  certainly  very 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  45 

general  that  the  Vigilantes  did  rather  a  good  piece  of  work  in 
clearing  the  city  of  crime." 

They  turned  on  him  with  a  savagery  that  took  his  breath. 
Keith,  laughing,  held  up  both  hands. 

"Don't  shoot,  don't  shoot  1  I'll  come  down!"  he  cried.  "I 
told  you  I  didn't  know  anything  about  it!" 

They  checked  themselves,  suddenly  ashamed  of  their  heat. 
Calhoun  Bennett  voiced  their  feeling  of  apology. 

"  Yo'  must  accept  our  excuses,  Mr.  Keith,  but  this  is  a  mattah 
on  which  we  feel  strongly.  Our  indignation  was  naturally  not 
directed  against  yo',  suh." 

But  Judge  Girvin,  ponderous,  formal,  dignified,  was  making 
a  pronouncement. 

"Undoubtedly,  young  sir,"  he  rolled  forth  at  Keith,  "un 
doubtedly  a  great  many  scoundrels  were  cleared  from  the  city  at 
that  time.  That  no  one  would  have  the  temerity  to  deny.  But 
you,  sir,  as  a  lawyer,  realize  with  us  that  even  pure  and  equitable 
justice  without  due  process  of  law  is  against  the  interests  of 
society  as  a  coherent  whole.  Infringement  of  law,  even  for  a  good 
purpose,  invariably  brings  about  ultimate  contempt  for  all  law. 
In  the  absence  of  regularly  constituted  tribunals,  as  in  a  primitive 
society — such  as  that  prior  to  the  Constitutional  Convention  of 
September,  1849 — it  may  become  necessary  that  informal 
plebiscites  be  countenanced.  But  in  the  presence  of  regularly 
constituted  and  appointed  tribunals,  extra-legal  functions  are  not 
to  be  undertaken  by  the  chance  comer.  If  defects  occur  in  the  ad 
ministration  of  the  law,  the  remedy  is  in  the  hand  of  the  public. 
The  voter —  -"  he  went  on  at  length,  elaborating  the  legal  view. 
Everybody  listened  with  respect  and  approval  until  he  had 
finished.  But  then  up  spoke  Judge  CaldweH,  the  round,  shining, 
perspiring,  untidy,  jovial,  Silenus-like  jurist  with  the  blunt 
fingers. 

"  We  all  agree  with  you  theoretically,  Judge,"  said  he.  "  What 
these  other  fellows  object  to,  I  imagine,  is  that  the  law  has  such  a 
hell  of  a  hang  fire  to  it." 

Judge  Girvin's  eyes  flashed,  and  he  tossed  back  his  white  mane. 


46  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

"The  due  forms  of  the  law  are  our  heritage  from  the  ages! "  he 
thundered  back.  "The  so-called  delays  and  technicalities  are 
the  checks  devised  by  human  experience  against  the  rash  judg 
ments  and  rasher  actions  by  the  volatile  element  of  society! 
They  are  the  safeguards,  the  bulwarks  of  society!  It  is  better 
that  a  hundred  guilty  men  escape  than  that  one  innocent  man 
should  suffer!" 

The  old  judge  was  magnificent,  his  eyes  alight,  his  nostrils 
expanded,  his  head  reared  back  defiantly,  all  the  great  power  of 
his  magnetism  and  his  authority  brought  to  bear.  Keith  was 
thrilled.  He  considered  that  the  discussion  had  been  lifted  to  a 
high  moral  plane. 

By  rights  Judge  Caldwell  should  have  been  crushed;  but  he 
seemed  undisturbed. 

"Well,"  he  remarked  comfortably,  "on  that  low  average  we 
must  have  quite  a  few  innocent  men  among  us  after  all." 

"What  do  you  mean,  sir?"  demanded  Judge  Girvin,  halted 
in  mid  career  and  not  catching  the  allusion. 

"Surely,  Judge,  you  don't  mean  to  imply  that  you  endorse 
Coleman  and  his  gang?"  put  in  Calhoun  Bennett  courteously 
but  incredulously. 

"Endorse  them?  Certainly  not!"  disclaimed  Caldwell.  "I 
need  my  job,"  he  added  with  a  chuckle. 

Bennett  tossed  back  his  hair,  and  a  faint  disgust  appeared  in 
his  dark  eyes,  but  he  said  nothing  more.  Caldwell  lit  a  cigar 
with  pudgy  fingers. 

"My  advice  to  you,"  he  said  to  Markle,  "is  that  if  you  think 
you're  going  to  have  to  kill  this  man  in  self-defence" — he  rolled  an 
unabashed  and  comical  eye  at  the  company — "you  be  sure  to  see 
our  old  friend,  Sheriff  Webb,  gets  you  to  jail  promptly."  He 
heaved  to  his  feet.  "Might  even  send  him  advance  word,"  he 
suggested,  and  waddled  away  toward  the  bar. 

A  dead  silence  succeeded  his  departure.  None  of  the 
younger  men  ventured  a  word.  Finally  Judge  Girvin,  with 
a  belated  idea  of  upholding  the  honour  of  the  bench,  turned  to 
Keith. 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  47 

"  Judge  Caldwell's  humour  is  a  little  trying  at  times,  but  he  is 
essentially  sound." 

The  young  Englishman,  Morrell,  uttered  a  high  cackle. 

"Quite  right,"  he  observed;  "he'll  fix  it  all  right  for  you, 
Markle." 

At  the  bad  taste  of  what  they  thought  an  example  of  English 
stupidity  every  one  sat  aghast.  Keith  managed  to  cover  the 
situation  by  ordering  another  round  of  drinks.  Morrell  seemed 
quite  pleased  with  himself. 

"Got  a  rise  out  of  the  old  Johnny,  what?"  he  remarked  to 
Keith  aside. 

Judge  Caldwell  returned.  The  conversation  became  general. 
Vast  projects  were  discussed  with  the  light  touch — public  works, 
the  purchase  of  a  theatre  for  the  town  hall,  the  sale  by  auction  of 
city  or  state  lands,  the  extension  of  wharves,  the  granting  of 
franchises,  and  many  other  affairs,  involving,  apparently,  millions 
of  money.  All  these  things  were  spoken  of  as  from  the  inside. 
Keith,  sipping  his  drinks  quietly,  sat  apart  and  listened.  He  felt 
himself  in  the  current  of  big  affairs.  Occasionally,  men  sauntered 
by,  paused  a  moment.  Keith  noticed  that  they  greeted  his  com 
panions  with  respect  and  deference.  He  experienced  a  feeling  of 
being  at  the  centre  of  things.  The  evening  drifted  by  pleasantly. 

Along  toward  midnight,  John  Sherwood,  without  a  hat,  stopped 
long  enough  to  exchange  afew  joking  remarks,  then  sauntered  on. 

"I  know  him,"  Keith  told  Calhoun  Bennett.  "That's  John 
Sherwood.  He's  at  our  hotel.  What  does  he  do?  " 

"Oh,  don't  you  know  who  he  is?  "  replied  Bennett.  "He's  the 
owner  of  this  place." 

"A  gambler?"  cried  Keith,  a  trifle  dashed. 

"Biggest  in  town.    But  square." 

Keith  for  a  moment  was  a  little  nonplussed.  The  sudden 
intimacy  rose  up  to  confront  him.  They  were  kind  people,  and 
Mrs.  Sherwood  was  apparently  everything  she  should  be — but  a 
public  gambler!  Of  course  he  had  no  prejudices — but  Nan • 


VIII 

KEITH  returned  to  the  hotel  very  late,  and  somewhat 
exalted.  He  was  bubbling  over  with  good  stories,  inter 
esting  information,  and  ideas;  so  he  awakened  Nan,  and 
sat  on  the  edge  of  the  bed,  and  proceeded  enthusiastically  to 
tell  her  all  about  it.  She  was  very  sleepy.  Also  an  exasperated 
inhabitant  of  the  next  room  pounded  on  the  thin  partition. 
Reluctantly  Keith  desisted.  It  took  him  some  time  to  get  to 
sleep,  as  the  excitement  was  seething  in  his  veins. 

He  came  to  consciousness  after  a  restless  night.  The  sun  was 
streaming  in  at  the  window.  He  felt  dull  and  heavy,  with  a 
slight  headache  and  a  weariness  in  all  his  muscles.  Worst  of  all. 
Nan,  in  a  ravishing  pink  fluffy  affair,  was  bending  over  him, 
her  eyes  dancing  with  amusement  and  mischief . 

"And  how  is  my  little  madcap  this  morning?"  she  inquired 
with  mock  solicitude.  This  stung  Keith  to  some  show  of 
energy,  and  he  got  up. 

The  sun  was  really  very  bright.  A  dash  of  cold  water  made 
him  feel  better.  Enthusiasm  began  to  flow  back  like  a  tide. 
The  importance  of  the  evening  before  reasserted  its  claims  on 
his  imagination.  As  he  dressed  he  told  Nan  all  about  it.  In 
the  midst  of  a  glowing  eulogy  of  their  prospects,  he  checked 
himself  with  a  chuckle. 

"  Guess  what  the  Sherwoods  are,"  said  he. 

Nan,  who  had  been  half  listening  up  to  this  time,  gave  him 
her  whole  attention. 

"A  gambler!  A  common  gambler!"  she  repeated  after  him, 
a  little  dismayed. 

"I  felt  the  same  way  for  a  minute  or  so,"  he  answered  her 
tone  cheerfully.  "But  after  all  I  remembered — you  must 

48 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  49 

remember — that  society  here  is  very  mixed.  And  anyway, 
Sherwood  is  no  'common  gambler';  I  should  say  he  was  a  most 
uncommon  gambler!"  He  chuckled  at  his  little  joke.  "All 
sorts  of  people  are  received  here.  We've  got  to  get  used  to 
that.  And  certainly  no  one  could  hope  anywhere  to  find 
nicer — more  presentable — people." 

She  nodded,  but  with  a  reservation. 

"Surely  nowhere  would  you  find  kinder  people,"  went  on 
Keith.  "  See  how  they  took  us  hi! " 

"Look  out  they  don't  take  you  in,  Milton,"  she  interjected 
suddenly. 

Keith,  brought  up  short,  sobered  at  this. 

"That  is  unjust,  Nan, "  he  said  gravely. 

She  said  nothing,  but  showed  no  signs  of  having  been  con 
vinced.  After  her  first  need  had  passed,  Nan  Keith's  natural 
reserve  had  asserted  itself.  This  was  the  result  of  heredity 
and  training,  as  part  of  herself,  something  she  could  not  help. 
Its  tendency  was  always  to  draw  back  from  too  great  or  too 
sudden  intimacies.  There  was  nothing  snobbish  in  this;  it  was 
a  sort  of  instinct,  a  natural  reaction.  She  liked  Mrs.  Sher 
wood,  admired  her  slow,  complete  poise,  approved  her  air  of 
breeding  and  the  things  by  which  she  had  surrounded  her 
self.  The  older  woman's  kindness  had  struck  in  her  a  deep 
chord  of  appreciation.  But  somehow  circumstances  had  hur 
ried  her  too  much.  Her  defensive  antagonism,  not  to  Mrs. 
Sherwood  as  a  person,  but  to  sudden  intimacy  as  such,  had  been 
aroused.  It  had  had,  in  her  own  mind,  no  excuse.  She  knew 
she  ought  to  be  grateful  and  cordial;  she  felt  that  she  was  not 
quite  ready.  The  fact  that  the  Sherwoods  had  proved  to  be 
"common  gamblers"  gave  just  the  little  excuse  her  conscience 
needed  to  draw  back  a  trifle.  This,  it  should  be  added,  was 
also  quite  instinctive,  not  at  all  a  formulated  thought. 

She  said  nothing  for  some  tune;  then  remarked  mysteriously: 

"Perhaps  that's  why  they  go  to  meet  boats." 

Keith,  who  was  miles  beyond  the  Sherwoods  by  now,  looked 
bewildered. 


50  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

Keith  had  letters  of  business  introduction  to  Palmer,  Cook  & 
Co.,  a  banking  firm  powerful  and  respected  at  the  time,  but 
destined  to  become  involved  in  scandal.  The  most  pressing 
need,  both  he  and  Nan  had  determined,  was  a  house  of  their 
own;  the  hotel  was  at  once  uncomfortable  and  expensive. 
Accordingly  a  callow,  chipper,  self-confident,  blond  little  clerk 
was  assigned  to  show  them  about.  He  had  arrived  from  the 
East  only  six  months  ago;  but  this  was  six  months  earlier  than 
the  Keiths,  so  he  put  on  all  the  airs  of  an  old-timer.  In  a  two- 
seated  calash,  furnished  by  the  bankers,  they  drove  to  the 
westerly  part  of  the  town.  The  plank  streets  soon  ran  out  into 
sand  or  rutty  earth  roads.  These  bored  their  way  relentlessly 
between  sand  hills  in  the  process  of  removal.  Steam  paddies 
coughed  and  clanked  in  all  directions.  Many  houses  had,  by 
these  operations,  been  left  perched  high  and  dry  far  above  the 
grade  of  the  new  streets.  Often  the  sand  was  crumbling  away 
from  beneath  their  outer  corners.  All  sorts  of  nondescript 
ramshackle  and  temporary  stairs  had  been  improvised  to  get 
their  inhabitants  in  or  out.  The  latter  seemed  to  be  clinging  to 
their  tenements  as  long  as  possible. 

"They  often  cave  in,"  explained  the  clerk,  "and  the  whole 
kit  and  kaboodle  comes  sailing  down  into  the  street.  Some 
times  it  happens  at  night,"  he  added  darkly. 

"But  isn't  anybody  hurt?"  cried  Nan. 

"  Lots  of  'em, "  replied  the  clerk  cheerfully.     "  Git  dap ! " 

They  now  executed  a  flank  attack  on  the  "fashionable" 
quarter  of  the  town. 

"They're  grading  the  street  down  below,"  the  clerk  justified 
his  roundabout  course. 

Here  were  a  number  of  isolated,  scattered  wooden  houses, 
of  some  size  and  of  much  scroll  and  jigsaw  work.  Some  of 
them  had  little  ornamental  iron  fencelets  running  along  their 
ridgepoles,  or  lightning  rods  on  the  chimneys  or  at  the  corners, 
although  thunderstorms  were  practically  unknown.  The  clerk 
at  once  began  to  talk  of  these  as  "mansions."  He  drew  up  be 
fore  one  of  them,  hitched  the  horse,  and  invited  his  clients  to 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  51 

descend.  Nan  looked  at  the  exterior  a  trifle  doubtfully.  It 
was  a  high-peaked,  slender  house,  drawn  together  as  though  it 
felt  cold;  with  carved  wooden  panels  over  each  window,  minia 
ture  balconies  with  elaborate  spindly  columns  beneath,  and  a 
haughty,  high,  narrow  porch  partially  clothing  a  varnished  front 
door  flanked  with  narrow  strips  of  coloured  glass. 

The  clerk  produced  a  key.  The  interior  also  was  high  and 
narrow.  Much  glistening  varnish  characterized  the  front  hall. 
They  inspected  one  after  another  the  various  rooms.  The  house 
was  partly  furnished.  In  the  showrooms  hung  heavy  red 
curtains  held  back  by  cords  with  gilt  tassels.  Each  fireplace 
was  framed  by  a  mantel  of  wliite  marble.  But  the  glory  was  the 
drawing-room.  This  had  been  frescoed  in  pale  blue,  and  all  about 
the  wall  and  even  across  part  of  the  ceiling  had  been  draped  fes 
toon  after  festoon  of  fishnet.  Only  this  was  not  real  fishnet,  as 
a  closer  inspection  showed.  It  had  been  cunningly  painted! 
In  the  dim  light,  and  to  a  person  with  an  optimistic  imagination, 
the  illusion  was  almost  perfect.  Nan  choked  suddenly  at  the 
sight  of  this;  then  her  eyes  widened  to  a  baby  stare,  and  she 
become  preternaturally  solemn. 

They  looked  it  all  over  from  top  to  bottom;  the  clerk  fairly 
tiptoeing  about  with  the  bent-backed  air  of  one  who  handles  a 
precious  jade  vase.  From  the  front  windows  he  showed  them  a 
really  magnificent  view,  with  the  blue  waters  of  the  bay  shining, 
and  the  Contra  Costa  shore  shimmering  in  the  haze. 

"In  the  residence  next  door  to  the  west  dwell  most  desirable 
neighbours,"  he  urged,  "the  Morrells.  They  are  English,  or  at 
least  he  is." 

"I  met  him  last  night,"  said  Keith  to  Nan;  "he  looked  like  a 
good  sort." 

"Who  is  in  the  big  house  over  there?"  asked  Nan,  indicating 
a  very  elaborate  structure  diagonally  opposite. 

"That — oh,  that — well,  that  is  in  rather  a  state  of  transition,  as 
it  were,"  stammered  the  little  clerk,  and  at  once  rattled  on  about 
something  else.  This  magnificent  mansion,  he  explained,  was  the 
only  one  Palmer,  Cook  &  Co.  had  on  their  lists  for  the  moment. 


52  THE  GRAY  1>4WN 

Therefore  he  drove  them  back  to  the  Bella  Union.  Keith  de 
parted  with  him  to  look  up  a  suitable  office  downtown. 

Nan  bowed  solemnly  to  his  solemn  salutation  in  farewell,  and 
turned  as  quickly  as  she  could  to  the  interior  of  the  hotel. 
Sherwood  sat  in  his  accustomed  place,  his  big  steel  spectacles  on 
his  nose,  his  paper  spread  out  before  him.  He  arose  and  bowed. 
She  nodded,  but  did  not  pause.  Once  inside  the  hall,  she  picked 
up  her  skirts  and  fairly  flew  up  the  stairs  to  her  room.  Slamming 
the  door  shut,  she  locked  it,  then  sank  on  the  edge  of  the  bed  and 
laughed — laughed  until  she  wiped  the  tears  from  her  cheeks, 
rocking  back  and  forth  and  hugging  herself  in  an  ecstasy.  Every 
few  moments  she  would  pull  up;  then  some  unconsidered  enor 
mity  would  strike  her  afresh  and  she  would  go  off  into  another 
paroxysm.  After  a  while,  much  relieved,  she  wiped  her  eyes  and 
arose. 

"This  place  will  be  the  death  of  me  yet,"  she  told  her  distorted 
image  in  the  mirror. 

She  rummaged  in  one  of  her  trunks,  produced  writing  mate 
rials,  and  started  a  letter  to  an  Eastern  friend.  This  occupied 
her  fully  for  two  hours.  At  that  period  it  was  customary  to 
"indite  epistles"  with  a  "literary  flavour,"  a  practice  that 
immensely  tickled  those  who  did  the  inditing.  Nan  became 
wholly  interested  and  quite  pleased  with  herself.  Her  first 
impressions,  she  found  when  she  came  to  write  them  down,  were 
stimulating  and  interesting.  She  was  full  of  enthusiasm;  but 
had  she  been  capable  of  a  real  analysis  she  would  have  found 
it  quite  different  from  Keith's  enthusiasm.  She  looked  on  this 
strange,  uncouth,  vital  city  from  the  outside,  from  the  superior 
standpoint.  She  appreciated  it  as  she  would  have  appreciated 
the  "quaintness"  of  the  villagers  in  some  foreign  town. 

About  noon  Keith  returned. 

"IVe  looked  into  every  possibility,"  he  told  her.  "Honest, 
Nan,  I  don't  see  exactly  what  we  are  to  do  unless  we  build  for  our 
selves.  That  Boyle  house  is  the  only  house  in  town  for  rent — 
that  is  of  any  size  and  in  a  respectable  quarter.  You  see  they 
are  too  new  out  here  to  have  built  houses  for  rent  yet;  and  if  you 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  53 

find  any  vacant  at  all,  it  is  sheer  good  fortune.  Of  course  to  stay 
in  this  little  box  is  impossible,  and — 

She  had  been  contemplating  him,  her  eyes  dancing  with  amuse 
ment. 

"You've  taken  it!"  she  accused  him. 

"Well— I— yes,"  he  admitted,  a  little  red. 

She  laughed. 

"I  knew  it,"  she  said.  "When  can  we  move  in?  I  want  to 
get  started." 


IX 

KEITH'S  first  plunge  into  the  teeming  life  of  the  place 
had  to  suffice  him  for  all  the  rest  of  that  week.  There 
seemed  so  many  pressing  things  to  do  at  home.  The 
Boyle  house  was  only  partly  furnished.  Each  morning  he  and 
Nan  went  downtown  and  prospected  for  things  needed.  This 
was  Nan's  first  experience  of  the  sort;  and  she  confessed  to  a 
ludicrous  surprise  over  the  fact  that  pots,  pans,  brooms,  kitchen 
utensils,  and  such  homely  matters  had  to  be  thought  of  and 
bought. 

"I  had  a  sort  of  notion  they  grew  on  the  premises,"  she  said. 

Mrs.  Sherwood  gave  them  much  valuable  advice,  particularly 
as  to  auctions.  In  the  Keiths'  limited  experience  auctions 
generally  had  meant  cheap  or  second-hand  articles,  but  out 
here  the  reverse  was  the  case.  A  madness  possessed  other 
wise  conservative  Eastern  merchants — especially  of  the  staid 
city  of  Boston — to  send  out  on  speculation  immense  cargoes  of 
all  sorts  of  goods.  These  were  the  despair  of  consignees. 
Heavy  freights,  high  interest  charges,  tremendous  warehouse 
rates,  speedily  ate  up  whatever  chance  of  profits  a  fresh  consign 
ment  might  have.  The  only  solution  was  to  sell  out  as  promptly 
as  possible;  and  the  quickest  method  was  the  auction.  There 
fore,  auctions  were  everywhere  in  progress,  and  the  professional 
auctioneers  were  a  large,  influential,  and  skilful  class  of  people. 
Their  advertisements  made  the  bulk  of  the  newspapers.  They 
dressed  well,  carried  an  air  of  consequence,  furnished  refresh 
ments,  brass  bands,  or  other  entertainments  to  their  patrons. 
The  era  of  fabulous  prices  was  at  an  end,  but  the  era  of  wild 
speculation  as  to  what  the  public  was  going  to  want  was  in  full 
tide.  Keith  and  Nan  found  these  auctions  great  fun,  and  piece 

54 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  55 

by  piece  they  accumulated  the  items  of  their  house  furnishing. 
It  was  slow  work,  but  amusing.  At  times  Mrs.  Sherwood  ac 
companied  them,  but  not  often.  Her  advice  was  always  good. 

As  to  Mrs.  Sherwood,  Nan  Keith  found  her  attitude  very 
vague.  There  was  no  doubt  that  she  liked  her  personally, 
admired  her  slow,  purposeful,  half -indolent  movements,  the 
poise  of  her  small,  patrician  head,  the  unconscious,  easy  grace 
of  her  body,  the  direct  commonsense  quality  of  her  mind.  One 
met  her  face  to  face;  there  were  no  frills  and  furbelows  of  the 
spirit.  Also,  Nan  was  grateful  for  the  other  woman's  first  kind 
ness  and  real  sympathy,  and  she  wanted  to  "play  the  game." 
But,  on  the  other  hand,  all  her  social  training  and  her  instinct  of 
formalism  tended  to  hold  her  aloof.  She  blamed  herself  in 
tellectually  for  this  feeling;  but  since  it  was  a  feeling,  and  had 
nothing  to  do  with  intellect,  it  persisted. 

In  the  auction  rooms,  also,  she  seemed  to  meet — be  formally 
introduced  to — a  bewildering  number  of  people,  most  of  whom 
she  could  not  place  at  all.  There  seemed  to  be  no  reason  for 
meeting  them;  certainly  she  would  not  have  met  them  in  the 
East.  Nevertheless,  they  all  shook  her  by  the  hand,  and  bowed 
to  her  whenever  subsequently  they  passed  her  on  the  street. 
Keith  told  her  this  was  all  usual  and  proper  in  this  new  and 
mixed  social  order;  and  she  was  perfectly  willing  to  make  the 
effort.  She  was  really  charming  to  everybody.  The  con 
sciousness  that  she  was  successfully  adapting  herself  to  their 
primitive  provincial  scope,  and  her  very  gracious  condescension 
to  all  types,  filled  her  with  respect  for  her  democracy  and 
breadth  of  mind. 

The  afternoon  they  spent  at  the  house  receiving  boxes  and 
packages.  Keith  worked  busily,  happily,  feverishly,  in  his  shirt 
sleeves.  He  attacked  the  job  on  the  principle  of  a  whirlwind 
campaign,  hammering,  ripping,  throwing  papers  down,  deciding 
instantly  where  this  or  that  chair  or  table  was  to  stand,  tearing 
on  to  the  next,  enjoying  himself  dustily  and  hugely. 

Nan  was  more  leisurely.  She  found  time  to  gossip  with  the 
drayman  who  brought  up  the  goods,  actually  came  to  a  liking 


56  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

and  a  warm  friendly  feeling  for  him  as  a  person.  This  was  a  new 
experience  for  Nan,  and  she  explored  it  curiously. 

John  McGlynn  was  a  teamster,  but  likewise  a  thoroughly 
independent  and  capable  citizen.  He  was  of  the  lank,  hewn, 
lean-faced,  hawk-nosed  type,  deliberate  in  movement  and  speech, 
with  a  twinkling,  contemplative,  appraising  eye,  and  an  un 
hurried  drawl.  He  told  Nan  he  had  come  out  in  '49. 

"No,  ma'am,"  he  disclaimed  vigorously,  "I  didn't  go  to  the 
mines.  I  am  a  teamster,  and  I  always  did  teaming."  He  did 
not  add,  as  he  might  have  done,  that  in  those  days  of  the  in 
dividual  he  had  been  an  important  influence. 

His  great  pride  was  his  team  and  wagon,  and  that  pride  was 
justified.  The  wagon  was  a  heavy  flat  affair,  gayly  decorated, 
and  on  the  sides  of  the  box  were  paintings  of  landscapes.  The 
horses  were  great,  magnificent  creatures,  with  arching  thick 
necks,  long  wavy  manes  and  forelocks,  soft,  intelligent  eyes,  and 
with  great  hoofs  and  hairy  fetlocks.  They  carried  themselves  in 
conscious  pride.  Their  harness  was  heavy  with  silver  and  with 
many  white  and  coloured  rings.  In  colour  they  were  dapple  gray. 

"  That  team,"  said  John  McGlynn,  "  is  a  perfect  match.  Took 
me  two  years  to  get  them  together.  Wuth  a  mint  of  money. 
That  Kate,  there,  is  a  regular  character.  You'd  be  surprised 
how  cute  she  is.  I  often  wonder  who  Kate  is.  She  must  be 
some  very  famous  woman." 

John  McGlynn  was  a  very  wonderful  and  very  accommodating 
person,  Nan  thought.  He  would  help  carry  things  in,  and  was 
willing  to  unpack  or  to  carry  out  the  mess  Keith's  mad  career 
left  behind  it.  Also  he  cast  an  eye  on  the  garden  possibili 
ties,  and  issued  friendly,  expert  advice  to  which  Nan  listened, 
breathless.  They  held  long  intimate  consultations  as  to  the 
treatment  of  the  soil. 

"A  few  posies  does  sort  of  brighten  things  up;  they're  wuth 
while,"  quoth  John. 

Without  previous  consultation,  he  appeared  one  day  accom 
panied  by  a  rotund,  bland,  gorgeous  Chinaman  perched  beside 
him  on  his  elevated  seat. 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  57 

"This  is  Wing  Woh,  a  friend  of  mine,"  he  announced.  "You 
got  to  have  a  Chink,  of  course.  You  can't  run  that  sized  house 
without  help.  Wing  knows  all  the  Chinks  in  town,  and  bosses 
about  half  of  them." 

Wing  Woh  descended  and  without  a  word  walked  into  the 
house.  He  was  a  very  ornate  person,  dressed  in  a  skull  cap  with 
a  red  coral  button  atop,  a  brocaded  pale  lavendar  tunic  of  silk, 
baggy  pale  green  trousers  tied  close  around  the  ankles,  snow- 
white  socks  and  the  typical  shoe.  Gravely,  solemnly,  methodi 
cally  he  went  over  the  entire  house;  then  returned  and  clambered 
up  beside  John. 

"All  light,"  he  vouchsafed  to  the  astonished  Nan. 

Next  morning  she  found  waiting  on  the  veranda  a  smiling 
"china  boy"  dressed  all  in  clean  white.  A  small  cloth  bundle 
lay  at  his  feet. 

"My  name  Wing  Sam,"  he  announced;  "I  wo'k  you  thi'ty 
dolla'  month.  Where  you  keep  him  bloom?  " 

That  day  John  McGlynn  stopped  after  unloading  his  boxes  to 
give  a  little  advice. 

"Chinks  are  queer,"  said  he.  "When  you  show  this  fellow 
how  to  do  anything,  be  sure  to  show  him  right,  because  that's  the 
way  he's  going  to  do  it  forever  after.  You  can't  change  him. 
And  show  him;  don't  tell  him.  And  let  him  do  things  his  own 
way  as  much  as  you  can,  instead  of  insisting  on  your  way." 

McGlynn  also  advised  Keith  as  to  where  he  could  to  the  best 
advantage  hire  a  horse  and  buggy  by  the  month. 

"You  want  a  good  safe  animal,  so  Mrs.  Keith  can  drive  him; 
but  you  don't  want  a  cow.  Jump  aboard  and  I'll  take  you 
around.  Never  mind  your  coat,"  he  told  Keith,  "it's  warm." 

So  they  "jumped  aboard"  and  drove  down  the  street.  Nan 
gurgled  with  amusement  over  the  episode.  She  sat  on  the  high 
seat  beside  John  McGlynn's  lank  figure,  above  the  broad  backs 
of  the  great  horses;  and  Keith  in  his  shirtsleeves,  his  hair  every 
which  way,  a  smudge  of  black  across  his  nose,  balanced  in  the 
flat  dray  body  behind.  Nan  tried  to  imagine  the  sensation  they 
would  create  in  Baltimore,  and  laughed  aloud. 


58  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

"Is  sort  of  funny,"  commented  John  McGlynn  sympatheti 
cally.  "  But  everything  goes  out  here." 

Nan,  aghast  at  the  uncanny  perspicacity  of  the  man,  choked 
silently.  In  her  world  there  had  always  been  a  sort  of  vague,  un 
expressed  feeling  that  the  "lower  classes"  were  dull. 

They  used  the  horse  and  buggy  a  great  deal.  It  was  delivered 
at  the  hotel  door  every  morning  and  taken  from  the  same  place 
every  evening.  Innumerable  errands  downtown  for  things  for 
gotten  kept  it  busy.  At  night  they  returned  to  the  hotel  pretty 
well  tired  out.  It  was  a  tremendous  task,  much  as  they  might 
be  enjoying  it. 

"Seems  to  me  the  more  we  do  the  worse  it  gets,"  said  Keith. 
"Let's  dig  some  sort  of  a  hole  and  move  in  anyway." 

"In  a  few  days,"  agreed  Nan,  who  as  general-in-chief  had  a 
much  clearer  idea  of  the  actual  state  of  affairs  than  the  dusty 
nrivate. 


ONE  morning  the  accumulated  fatigue  had  its  way,  and 
they  overslept  scandalously.  It  was  after  ten  o'clock 
before  they  were  ready  to  drive  up  the  street.  As  they 
turned  the  corner  from  Kearney  Street  they  were  saluted  by  the 
ringing  of  numerous  bells. 

"Why,  it's  Sunday!"  cried  Keith,  after  a  moment's  calcula 
tion.  In  the  unexpectedness  of  this  discovery  he  reined  in  the 
horse. 

"It  will  never  do  to  work  to-day,"  she  answered  his  unspoken 
thought.  "I  suppose  we  ought  to  go  to  church." 

But  Keith  turned  the  horse's  head  to  the  left. 

"Church?"  he  returned  with  great  decision.  "We're  going 
on  a  spree.  This  is  a  day  of  rest,  and  we've  earned  it." 

"Where?"  asked  Nan,  a  trifle  shocked  at  his  implication  as 
to  church. 

"I  haven't  the  remotest  idea,"  said  Keith. 

They  drove  along  a  plank  road  leading  out  of  town.  It 
proved  to  be  thronged  with  people,  all  going  in  the  same  direc 
tion.  The  shuffle  of  their  feet  on  the  planks  and  the  murmur 
of  their  many  voices  were  punctuated  by  the  klop,  klop  of  hoofs 
and  occasional  shouts  of  laughter.  All  races  of  the  earth  seemed 
to  be  represented.  It  was  like  a  Congress  of  the  Nations 
at  some  great  exposition.  French,  Germans,  Italians,  Russians, 
Dutchmen,  British,  were  to  be  recognized  and  to  be  expected. 
But  also  were  strange  peoples — Turks,  Arabs,  Negroes,  Chinese, 
Kanakas,  East  Indians,  the  gorgeous  members  of  the  Spanish 
races,  and  nondescript  queer  people  to  whom  neither  Nan  nor 
Keith  could  assign  a  native  habitat.  At  every  step  one  or  the 
other  called  delighted  attention  *to  some  new  exhibit. 

59 


60  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

Most  extraordinary  were,  possibly,  the  men  from  the  gold 
mines  of  the  Sierras.  These  were  mostly  young,  but  long 
haired,  bearded,  rough,  wilder  than  any  mortal  man  need  be. 
They  walked  with  a  wide  swagger.  Their  clothes  were  exag 
geratedly  coarse,  but  they  ornamented  themselves  with  bright 
silk  handkerchiefs;  with  feathers,  flowers;  with  squirrel  or  buck- 
tails  in  their  hats;  'with  long  heavy  chains  of  nuggets;  with 
glittering  and  prominently  displayed  pistols,  revolvers,  stilettos, 
knives,  or  dirks.  Some  had  plaited  their  beards  in  three  tails; 
others  had  tied  their  long  hah*  under  their  chins.  But  even 
the  most  bizarre  seemed  to  attract  no  attention.  San  Fran 
cisco  was  accustomed  to  it. 

Indeed,  the  few  fashionable  strollers  were  much  more  stared 
at.  Most  of  the  well  dressed  were  in  some  sort  of  vehicle. 
The  Keiths  saw  many  buggies  like  their  own.  A  few  very 
smart,  or  rather  very  ornamental,  double  rigs  dashed  by.  In 
these  sat  generally  good-looking  but  rather  loud  young  women, 
who  stared  straight  ahead  with  an  assumption  of  supreme  indif 
ference.  Hacks  or  omnibuses  careered  along.  In  these  the 
company  was  generally  merry  but  mixed,  though  occasionally 
a  good-looking  couple  had  hired  an  ordinary  public  conveyance. 
Horsemen  and  horsewomen  were  numerous.  Some  of  these 
were  very  dashing  indeed,  the  women  with  long  trailing  skirts 
and  high  hats  from  which  floated  veils;  the  men  with  skin-tight 
trousers  strapped  under  varnished  boots,  and  long  split-skirted 
coats.  Others  were  simply  plain  a-horseback.  The  native 
Californians  with  their  heavy,  silver-mounted  saddles,  braided 
rawhide  reins  and  bridles,  their  sombreros,  their  picturesque 
costumes,  and  their  magnificent  fiery  horses  made  a  fine  appear 
ance.  Occasionally  screaming,  bouncing  Chinese,  hanging  on 
with  both  hands,  would  dash  by  at  full  speed,  their  horses  quite 
uncontrolled,  their  garments  flying,  ecstatically  scared  and 
happy,  causing  great  confusion,  and  pursued  by  curses. 

"  Evidently  we're  headed  in  the  right  direction,"  remarked 
Keith. 

After  a  drive  of  two  or  three  miles,,  never  far  from  the  bay, 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  61 

they  arrived  at  what  had  evidently  been  a  sleepy  little  village. 
The  original  low,  picturesque,  red- tiled  adobe  buildings  still  clus 
tered  about  the  Mission.  But  much  had  been  added.  The 
Keiths  found  themselves  in  an  immense  confusion.  Scream 
ing  signs  cried  everywhere  for  attention — advertising  bear  pits, 
cock  fights,  theatrical  attractions,  side  shows,  and  the  Like. 
Innumerable  hotels  and  restaurants,  small,  cheap,  and  tawdry, 
offered  their  hospitality,  the  liquid  part  of  which  was  already 
being  widely  accepted.  Men  were  striking  pegs  with  hammers, 
throwing  balls  at  negroes'  heads  thrust  through  canvas,  shoot 
ing  at  targets.  A  racecourse  was  surrounded.  Dust  rose  in 
choking  clouds,  and  the  sun  beat  down  heavily. 

"Goodness,  what  a  place!"  cried  Nan  in  dismay. 

Had  they  known  it,  there  were  many  quiet,  attractive,  outly 
ing  resorts  catering  to  and  frequented  by  the  fashionables,  for 
"the  Mission"  was  at  that  time  in  its  heyday  as  a  Sunday 
amusement  for  all  classes.  As  it  was,  Keith  drove  on  through 
the  village,  and  so  out  to  a  winding  country  road. 

"This  is  heavenly,"  said  Nan,  and  laid  aside  her  veil. 

The  road  wound  and  meandered  through  the  low  hills  of  the 
peninsula.  The  sun  beat  down  on  them  in  a  flood,  only  its 
heat,  no  longer  oppressive,  had  become  grateful. 

"Doesn't  it  feel  good  on  your  back!"  exclaimed  Nan,  recog 
nizing  this  quality.  "One  seems  to  soak  it  hi — just  the  way  a 
thirsty  plant  soaks  water." 

The  rounded  hills  were  turning  a  ripe  soft  brown.  Across 
their  crests  the  sky  looked  very  blue.  High  in  the  heavens 
some  buzzards  were  sailing.  Innumerable  quail  called.  On 
tree  tops  perched  yellow-breasted  meadow  larks  with  golden 
voices.  In  the  bottom  of  the  narrow  valley  where  the  road 
wound  were  green  willow  trees  and  a  little  trickle  of  water. 
From  the  ground  came  upward  waves  of  heat  and  a  pungent 
clean  odour  of  some  weed.  Nan  was  excited  and  keenly  receptive 
to  impressions. 

"It's  a  hot  day!"  she  cried,  "and  the  road  is  dusty.  By 
rights  it  ought  to  be  disagreeable.  But  it  isn't !  Why  is  that?  " 


62  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

The  little  valley  widened  into  a  pocket.  Back  from  the 
road  stood  a  low  white  ranch  house.  Its  veranda  was  smoth 
ered  in  the  gorgeousness  of  bougainvillaea.  A  grave,  elderly, 
bearded  Spaniard,  on  horseback,  passed  them  at  a  smooth 
shuffling  little  trot,  and  gave  them  a  sonorous  buenas  dias. 
The  road  mounted  rapidly.  Once  when  Keith  had  reined  in  to 
breathe  the  horse,  they  heard  the  droning  crescendo  hum  of  a 
new  swarm  of  bees  passing  overhead. 

"Isn't  this  nice!"  cried  Nan,  snuggling  against  Keith's 
arm. 

Suddenly,  over  the  crest  and  down  the  other  side,  they  came 
on  sand  hills.  The  horse  plodded  along  at  a  walk.  Nan  hung 
far  out  watching,  fascinated,  the  smooth,  clean  sand  dividing  be 
fore  the  wheels  and  flowing  back  over  the  rim,  and  so  over  a  little 
rise,  and  the  sea  was  before  them. 

"Oh,  the  Pacific!"  exclaimed  she,  sitting  up  very  straight. 
The  horse  broke  into  a  trot  along  the  smooth  hard  shore. 

The  wind  was  coming  in  from  the  wide  spaces.  A  taste 
of  salt  was  in  the  air.  Foam  wreaths  advanced  and  receded 
with  the  edge  of  the  wash,  or  occasionally  blew  in  a  mass 
across  the  flat,  until  gradually  they  scattered  and  dissipated. 
The  horse  pricked  up  his  ears,  breathed  deep  of  the  fresh  cool 
air,  expanded  his  nostrils  snorting  softly,  pretended  to  shy  at  the 
foam  wreaths.  The  wash  advanced  and  drew  back  with  a  soft 
hissing  sound;  the  wind  blew  flat  and  low,  so  that  even  on  the 
wet  parts  a  fine,  white,  dried  mist  of  sand  was  always  scurrying 
and  hurrying  along  close  to  the  ground.  Outside  the  surges 
reared  and  fell  with  a  crash. 

After  the  tepid  or  heated  atmosphere  of  the  hills  the  air 
was  unexpectedly  cool  and  vital.  A  flock  of  sickle-billed  cur 
lews  stood  motionless  until  they  were  within  fifty  yards;  then 
rose  and  flew  just  inside  the  line  of  the  breakers,  uttering  inde 
scribably  weird  and  lonely  cries.  A  long  file  of  pelicans,  their 
wings  outspread,  sailed  close  to  the  surface  of  the  ocean,  undu 
lating  over  the  waves  and  into  the  hollows  exactly  paralleling, 
at  a  height  of  only  a  few  feet,  the  restless  contour  of  the 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  63 

Occasionally  they  would  all  flop  their  wings  two  or  three  times 
in  unison. 

"I  believe  it's  a  sort  of  game — they're  having  fun!"  stated 
Nan  with  conviction. 

Everything  seemed  to  be  having  fun.  Close  to  the  wash 
were  forty  or  fifty  tiny  white  sanderlings  in  a  compact  band. 
When  the  wash  receded  they  followed  it  with  an  incredibly 
rapid  twinkling  of  little  legs;  and  when  again  the  wave  rushed 
shoreward,  scuttle,  scuttle,  scuttle  went  they,  keeping  always  just 
at  the  edge  of  the  water.  Never  were  they  forced  to  wing; 
yet  never  did  they  permit  the  distance  to  widen  between  them 
selves  and  the  inrushing  or  outrushing  wave.  There  were  also 
sundry  ducks.  These  swam  just  inside  the  breakers,  and  were 
carried  backward  and  forward  by  the  surges.  Always  they 
faced  seaward.  At  the  very  last  instant,  as  a  great  curler  bent 
over  them,  they  dipped  their  heads  and  dived.  If  the  wave  did  not 
break,  however,  they  rode  over  its  top.  Their  accuracy  of  eye  was 
uncanny.  Time  after  time  they  gauged  the  wave  so  closely  that 
they  just  flipped  over  the  crest  as  it  crashed  with  a  roar  beneath 
them.  A  tenth  of  a  second  later  would  have  destroyed  them. 
Keith  reined  up  the  horse  to  watch  them  and  the  sanderlings. 

"It  is  a  game,"  he  agreed  after  a  while,  "just  like  the  peli 
cans.  It  isn't  considered  sporting  for  sanderlings  to  get  more 
than  three  inches  away  from  the  edge  of  the  wash;  or  for  a  duck 
to  dive  unless  he  actually  has  to.  It  must  be  a  game;  for  they 
certainly  aren't  catching  anything." 

At  this  moment  the  sanderlings  as  though  at  a  signal  sprang 
into  the  air,  wheeled  back  and  forth  with  instantaneous  pre 
cision,  and  departed.  The  ducks,  too,  dove,  and  came  up  only 
outside  the  surf. 

"Good  little  sportsmen,"  laughed  Keith;  "they  play  the 
game  for  its  own  sake.  They  don't  like  an  audience." 

After  a  few  miles  they  came  to  a  cliff  reaching  down  to  the 
beach  and  completely  barring  the  way.  Off  shore  were  rocky 
islets  coTered  with  seals  and  sea  lions.  A  lone  blue  heron  stood 
atop  a  sand  dune,  absolutely  motionless. 


64  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

"I  don't  know  where  we  are,  or  how  we  get  out, "  said  Keith, 
"but  I'm  going  to  take  that  chap  there  as  a  sign  post,"  and  he 
turned  his  horse  directly  toward  the  heron. 

Sure  enough,  a  track  led  them  through  the  sand,  and  by  a 
zigzag  route  to  the  top  of  the  knoll  that  had  barred  their  way 
along  the  shore.  They  came  to  an  edge.  Before  them  lay  an 
arm  of  the  sea,  sweeping  and  eddying  with  a  strong  incoming 
tide.  Over  the  way  stood  a  great  mountain,  like  a  sentinel. 
Far  to  their  right  the  arm  widened.  There  was  a  glimpse  of 
sparkling  blue,  and  of  the  pearl  of  far-off  hills,  and  the  haze 
of  a  distant  dim  peak. 

"It's  the  Golden  Gate!"  cried  Keith  in  sudden  enlighten 
ment. 

He  told  her  that  the  mountain  over  the  way  must  be  Tamal- 
pais;  that  the  pearl-gray,  far-off  hills  must  be  Contra  Costa; 
and  that  the  distant  dim  peak  was  undoubtedly  Mount  Diabolo. 
She  repeated  the  syllables  after  him  softly,  charmed  by  their 
music. 

Simultaneously  they  discovered  that  they  were  hungry. 
The  wind  whipped  in  from  the  sea.  An  outpost  tent  or  so 
marked  the  distant  invisible  city  over  the  hills.  Keith  turned 
his  horse's  head  toward  them.  They  drove  back  across  what 
are  now  the  Presidio  hills. 

But  in  a  hollow  they  came  upon  another  ranch  house,  like 
the  first — low,  white,  red  roofed,  covered  with  vines.  Keith 
insisted  on  driving  to  it.  A  number  of  saddled  horses  dozed 
before  the  door,  a  half-dozen  dogs  sprawled  in  the  dust,  fowls 
picked  their  way  between  the  horses'  legs  or  over  the  dogs'  re 
cumbent  forms.  At  the  sound  of  wheels  several  people  came 
from  the  shadow  of  the  porch  into  the  open.  They  proved  to 
be  Spanish  Californians  dressed  in  the  flat  sombreros,  the 
short  velvet  jackets,  the  slashed  trousers,  and  soft  leather  zapa- 
tos.  The  men,  handsome,  lithe,  indolent,  pressed  around  the 
wheels  of  the  buggy,  showing  their  white  teeth  in  pleasant 
smiles. 

"Can  we  get  anything  to  eat  here?"  asked  Keith. 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  65 

They  all  smiled  again  most  amiably.  The  elder  swept  off  his 
hat  with  a  free  gesture. 

11 A  piedes  westros,  senora"  he  said,  "pero  no  tiablo  Ingles. 
Habla  usted  Espaiiol?" 

Keith  understood  the  last  three  words. 

"No,"  he  shook  his  head  violently,  "no  Espanol.  Hungry." 
He  pointed  to  Nan,  then  to  himself:  "She,  me,  hungry." 

This  noble  effort  brought  no  results,  except  that  the  Cali- 
fornians  looked  more  politely  distressed  and  solicitous  than 
ever. 

"They  don't  understand  us,"  murmured  Nan;  "don't  you 
think  we'd  better  drive  on?" 

But  Keith,  who  had  now  descended  from  the  buggy,  re 
sorted  to  sign  language.  He  rubbed  his  stomach  pathetically 
and  pointed  down  his  open  mouth;  as  an  afterthought  he  rubbed 
the  horse's  belly;  then,  with  apparent  intention,  he  advanced 
toward  Nan.  A  furious  red  inundated  her  face  and  neck,  and 
she  held  her  little  parasol  threateningly  between  them.  Every 
body  burst  into  laughter. 

11  Si!  si!  si!"  they  cried. 

Several  started  to  unharness  the  horse.  Others  held  out 
their  hands.  After  a  moment's  hesitation  Nan  accepted  their 
aid  and  descended.  Keith's  performance  was  evidently  con 
sidered  a  great  joke. 

On  the  low  veranda  were  two  women,  one  most  enormously 
fat,  the  other  young  and  lithe.  They  were  dressed  almost  exactly 
alike,  their  blue-black  hah-  parted  smoothly  over  their  foreheads 
but  built  up  to  a  high  structure  behind,  filmy  rebosas  over  high 
combs,  and  skirts  with  many  flowered  flounces.  They  both 
had  soft,  gentle  eyes,  and  they  were  both  so  heavily  powdered 
that  their  complexions  were  almost  blue.  All  the  men  ex 
plained  to  them  at  once.  The  younger  answered  gayly;  the 
older  listened  with  entire  placidity.  But  when  the  account 
was  finished,  she  reached  out  to  pat  Nan's  hand,  and  to  smile 
reassuringly. 

Various  foods  and  a  flask  of  red  wine  were  brought.    There 


66  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

was  no  constraint,  for  Keith  threw  himself  with  delighted  aban 
don  into  experiments  with  sign  language. 

"Esta  simpatica"  the  Californians  told  each  other  over  and 
again. 

Their  manners  were  elaborate,  dignified,  deliberate,  and  beau 
tiful.  Keith,  ordinarily  rather  direct  and  brusque,  to  Nan's 
great  amusement  became  exactly  like  them.  They  outvied  each 
other.  The  women  touched  smilingly  the  stuff  of  Nan's  gown, 
and  directly  admired  her  various  feminine  trappings.  She, 
thus  encouraged,  begged  permission  to  examine  more  closely 
the  lace  of  the  rebosas  or  the  beautiful  embroidery  on  the  shawls. 
A  little  feeling  of  intimacy  drew  them  all  together,  although 
they  understood  no  word  of  each  other's  language. 

One  of  the  dogs  now  approached  and  gravely  laid  its  nose  on 
Nan's  knee,  gazing  up  at  her  with  searching  soft  eyes.  The  older 
woman  cried  out  scandalized,  but  Nan  shook  her  head,  and 
patted  the  beast's  nose. 

"You  like?"  asked  the  woman. 

"Why,  you  do  talk  English!"  cried  Nan. 

But  either  these  two  words  were  all  the  woman  had,  or  she  was 
unwilling  to  adventure  further. 

"You  like?"  she  repeated  again,  after  a  moment,  and  then, 
observing  Nan's  interest,  she  uttered  a  command  to  one  of  the 
numerous  ragged  small  boys  standing  about.  The  urchin  darted 
away,  to  return  after  a  moment  with  a  basket,  which  he  emptied 
on  the  ground.  Four  fuzzy  puppies  rolled  out. 

"Oh,  the  darlings!"  cried  Nan. 

The  little  animals  proceeded  at  once  to  roll  one  another  over, 
growling  fiercely,  charging  uncertainly  about,  gazing  inde 
terminately  through  their  blue  infantile  eyes.  The  mother  left 
her  position  at  Nan's  knee  to  hover  over  them,  turning  them  over 
with  her  nose,  licking  them,  skipping  nimbly  sidewise  when  they 
charged  down  upon  her  with  an  idea  of  nourishment. 

Nan  was  enchanted.  She  left  the  bench  to  stoop  to  their 
level,  tumbling  them  over  on  their  backs,  playfully  boxing  their 
ears,  working  them  up  to  a  wild  state  of  yapping  enthusiasm. 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  67 

"The  little  darlings!"  she  cried;  "just  see  their  fat  little 
tummies!  And  their  teeth  are  just  like  needles.  No,  no,  you 
mustn't!  You'll  tear  my  flounces!  Look,  Milton,  see  this  little 
rascal  pull  at  my  handkerchief! " 

Her  cheeks  were  flushed,  and  as  she  looked  up  laughing  from 
beneath  her  hat,  she  made  a  very  charming  picture. 

"You  like,"  stated  the  Californian  woman  with  conviction. 

After  a  while  it  became  time  to  go.  Vaqueros  brought  out  the 
horse  and  harnessed  it  to  the  buggy.  Keith  made  a  move 
ment  to  offer  payment,  but  correctly  interpreted  the  situation 
and  refrained.  They  mounted  the  vehicle. 

"  Muchas  gracias  I "  Nan  enunciated  slowly. 

This  effort  was  received  with  an  admiring  acclaim  that  flushed 
Nan  with  an  inordinate  pride.  She  had  picked  up  the  phrase 
from  hearing  it  used  at  table.  The  fat  woman  came  forward,  one 
of  the  puppies  tucked  under  her  arm.  In  spite  of  her  apparently 
unwieldy  size  she  moved  gracefully  and  lightly. 

"You  like?"  she  inquired,  holding  the  squirming  puppy  at 
arm's  length. 

"Si,  si,  muchas  gracias!"  cried  Nan  eagerly,  and  employing  at 
once  all  her  Spanish  vocabulary.  She  deposited  the  puppy  in  her 
lap  and  reached  out  to  shake  hands.  Keith  flicked  the  horse 
with  his  whip.  He,  too,  had  recollected  a  word  of  Spanish,  and 
he  used  it  now. 

"AdiosI"  he  shouted. 

But  their  hosts  had  a  better  phrase. 

"  Vaya  Con  Dios!"  they  cried  in  chorus. 

Nan  was  in  raptures  over  the  whole  episode,  but  especially  over 
the  puppy.  The  latter,  with  the  instantaneous  adaptability 
of  extreme  youth,  had  snuggled  down  into  a  compact  ball,  and  was 
blinking  one  hazy  dark  blue  eye  upward  at  his  new  mistress. 

"Weren't  they  nice  people,"  cried  Nan,  "and  wasn't  it  an 
adventure?  And  isn't  he  just  the  dearest,  cutest  little  thing? 
You're  not  a  little  Spanish  dog  any  more,  you  know.  You're  a — 
what  is  it  they  call  us? — oh,  yes!  You're  a  gringo  now.  Why, 
that's  9,  fine  idea !  Your  name  is  Gringo ! " 


68  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

And  Gringo  he  became  henceforth. 

"  What  kind  of  a  dog  is  he?  "  she  asked. 

Keith  grinned  sardonically. 

"Of  course  I  do  not  know  his  honoured  father,"  said  he,  "so  I 
cannot  offer  an  opinion  as  to  that  half  of  him.  But  on  his 
mother's  side  he  is  bloodhound,  bulldog,  collie,  setter,  pointer, 
St.  Bernard,  and  Old  English  sheepdog." 

"Which?"  asked  Nan  puzzled. 

"All,"  asserted  Keith. 

Now  suddenly  the  sun  was  blotted  out.  They  looked  back:  a 
white  bank  of  fog  was  rolling  in  from  the  sea.  It  flowed  over  the 
hills  like  a  flood,  reaching  long  wisps  down  into  the  hollows, 
settling  inertly  in  the  flats  and  valleys,  the  upper  part  rolling  on 
and  over  in  a  cascade.  Beneath  its  shadow  the  warmth  and 
brightness  of  the  world  had  died. 

"It  strikes  me  we're  going  to  be  cold,"  remarked  Keith,  urging 
forward  the  horse. 

The  roadbed  became  more  solid,  and  they  trotted  along  freely. 
The  horse,  also,  was  anxious  to  get  home.  Signs  of  habitations 
thickened.  The  wide  waste  hills  of  the  ranches  had  been  left 
behind.  Here  and  there  were  outlying  dwellings,  or  road  houses, 
the  objectives  of  pleasure  excursions  of  various  sorts  and  degrees 
of  respectability  from  the  city.  From  one  of  the  latter  came  a 
hail. 

"Oh,  Keith!    I  say,  Keith!" 

From  a  group  of  people  preparing  to  enter  a  number  of 
vehicles  two  men  came  running.  Ben  Sansome  and  Morrell, 
somewhat  out  of  breath,  came  alongside.  They  were  a  little 
flushed  and  elevated,  but  very  cordial,  and  full  of  reproaches 
that  Keith  had  so  entirely  dropped  out  of  sight  during  the  past 
week. 

"I  tell  you,  you  must  come  over  to  our  house  for  supper,"  said 
Morrell  finally.  "Everybody  comes." 

"The  Morrells'  Sunday  night  suppers  are  an  institution," 
supplemented  Sansome. 

"  I  wish  I  could  persuade  you,"  urged  Morrell.    "  I  wonder  where 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  69 

Mimi  is.  I  know  Mrs.  Morrell  ought  to  call,  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing,  but  this  is  not  a  conventional  place.  We  live  next  door, 
y'know.  Do  be  delightful  and  neighbourly,  and  come! " 

Nan  hesitated;  but  the  lure  of  the  well-dressed  company,  so 
thoroughly  at  ease  with  one  another,  was  irresistible  in  the  reac 
tion.  She  accepted. 


XI 

THE  Keiths  arrived  to  find  the  Morrells'  informal  party  in 
full  blast.  The  front  parlour  was  filled  with  a  number  of 
people  making  a  great  noise.  Out  of  the  confusion  Mrs. 
Morrell  arose  and  came  to  them,  as  they  stood  where  the  China 
man  had  abandoned  them. 

"Mimi"  Morrell  was  a  tall  woman,  not  fat,  but  amply  built, 
with  a  full  bust  and  hips.  Her  hair  was  of  the  peculiar  metallic 
golden  blond  that  might  or  might  not  have  been  natural;  her 
skin  smooth  and  white,  but  coarse  in  grain,  would  look  better 
at  night  than  by  daylight.  Her  handsome,  regular  features 
were  rather  hard  and  set  in  their  expression  when  in  absolute 
repose,  but  absolute  repose  was  rare  to  them.  In  action 
they  softened  to  a  very  considerable  feminine  allurement.  She 
moved  with  decision,  and  possibly  her  general  attitude  smacked 
the  least  bit  of  running  things.  She  gave  the  impression  of 
keeping  an  eye  open  for  everything  going  on  about  her.  To 
Nan  she  seemed  tremendous,  overwhelming,  and  a  little  magnifi 
cent. 

Immediately,  without  introductions,  the  whole  party  moved 
through  the  double  doors  into  the  dining-room.  There  they  took 
their  places  at  a  table  set  out  lavishly  with  food  and  drink  in 
great  quantity.  Mrs.  Morrell  explained  in  her  high  level  voice 
that  servants  and  service  were  always  dispensed  with  at  her 
Sunday  nights.  She  rather  carelessly  indicated  a  seat  to  Mrs. 
Keith,  and  remarked  to  Keith  that  he  was  to  sit  next  herself. 
Otherwise  the  party  distributed  itself.  Ben  Sansome  promptly 
annexed  the  chair  next  to  Nan,  and  started  in  to  make  himself 
agreeable. 

A  complete  freemasonry  obtained  among  all  the  party.    There 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  71 

was  a  great  deal  of  shouting  back  and  forth,  from  one  end  of  the 
table  to  the  other.  Each  seemed  to  have  a  nickname.  One 
young  man  was  known  exclusively  as  "Popsy,"  another  an 
swered  as  "Zou-zou,"  a  third  was  called  "Billy  Goat";  a  very 
vivid,  flashing  young  woman  was  "Teeny,"  and  so  OIL  They 
conversed,  or  rather  shouted,  to  a  great  extent  by  means  of  catch 
words  or  phrases,  alluding  evidently  to  events  the  purport  of 
which  the  Keiths  could  by  no  possibility  guess.  There  were  a 
great  many  private  jokes,  the  points  of  which  were  obvious  to 
only  one  or  two.  Every  once  in  a  while  some  one  would  say 
"Number  Seven!"  and  everybody  would  go  off  into  convulsions 
of  laughter.  The  vivid  young  woman  called  Teeny  suddenly 
shrieked,  "How  about  Friday,  the  twenty-third?  "  at  Popsy,  to 
Popsy's  obvious  consternation  and  confusion.  Immediately 
every  one  turned  on  either  Popsy  or  Teeny,  demanding  the  true 
inwardness  of  the  remark.  Popsy  defended  himself,  rather  pink 
and  embarrassed.  The  young  woman,  a  devilish  knowing  glint 
in  her  eyes,  her  red  underlip  caught  between  her  teeth,  refused  to 
answer. 

Keith  warmed  to  this  free  and  easy  atmosphere.  He  was 
friendly  and  sympathetic  with  the  lively  crowd.  But  in  vain  he 
tried  for  a  point  of  contact.  All  this  badinage  depended  on  a 
previous  knowledge  and  intimacy,  and  that,  of  course,  he  lacked. 
Mrs.  Morrell,  sitting  beside  him  very  straight  and  commanding, 
delivered  her  general  remarks  in  a  high,  clear  voice,  turning  her 
attention  impartially  now  to  one  part  of  the  noisy  table,  now  to 
another. 

Suddenly  she  abandoned  the  company  to  its  own  devices,  and 
leaning  her  left  elbow  on  the  table,  she  turned  squarely  to  Keith, 
enveloping  him  with  a  magnetic  all-for-you  look. 

"Do  you  know,"  she  said  abruptly,  "something  tells  me  you 
are  musical." 

"Why,  I  am,  a  little,"  admitted  Keith,  surprised.  "But  how 
could  you  tell?  " 

"La,  now,  I  was  sure  you  had  a  voice  the  first  time  I  heard  you 
speak.  I  adore  music,  and  I  can  always  tell." 


72  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

"Do  you  sing,  too?"  asked  Keith. 

"  I?  No,  unfortunately.  I  have  no  more  voice  than  a  crow. 
I  strum  a  bit,  but  even  that  has  been  a  good  deal  neglected 
lately.  There's  no  temptation  to  keep  up  one's  music  here.  I 
don't  know  a  single  soul  in  all  this  city  who  cares  a  snap  of  their 
finger  for  it." 

"We'll  have  to  have  some  music  together,"  suggested 
Keith. 

"I'd  adore  it.  Isn't  it  lucky  we're  neighbours?  I've  been  so 
interested" — she  said  it  as  though  she  had  almost  intended  to 
say  "amused" — "in  watching  you  this  past  week.  You  are  the 
most  domestic  man  I  know.  I  never  saw  a  man  work  so  single- 
mindedly  at  his  house  and  home.  Domesticity  is  a  rare  and  out 
worn  virtue  here,  I  assure  you.  It  is  really  quite  touching  to  see 
a  man  so  devoted  these  days." 

She  said  these  things  idly,  a  little  disjointedly,  looking  at  him 
steadily  all  the  while.  Her  manner  was  detached,  and  yet  some 
how  it  impelled  him  strongly  to  protest  that  he  was  really  not  a 
bit  domestic. 

"Have  you  met  any  of  the  people  of  the  place?"  she  shifted 
suddenly. 

"Well — I  really  haven't  had  much  chance  yet — a  few  of  the 
men." 

"Well,  you'll  find  things  pretty  mixed.  Don't  expect  much; 
one  has  to  take  things  pretty  much  as  one  finds  them." 

To  this  simple  speech  was  appended  one  gesture  only — a  slight 
raising  of  the  eyebrows.  Yet  the  effect  was  to  sweep  Keith  into 
the  intimacy  of  an  inner  circle,  to  suggest  that  she,  too,  found 
society  mixed,  and  to  imply — very  remotely — that  at  least 
certain  members  of  the  present  company  itself  were  not  quite 
what  he — or  she — would  choose  in  another  environment.  In  un 
conscious  response  to  this  unspoken  thought,  Keith  glanced 
about  the  table.  There  was  a  good  deal  of  drinking  going  on; 
and  the  fun  was  becoming  even  more  obvious  and  noisy.  Mrs. 
Morrell  occasionally  sipped  at  her  champagne.  She  emitted  a 
slight  but  rather  disturbing  perfume. 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  73 

"Why  did  you  come  out  here,  anyway?"  she  asked  him.  "I 
can't  make  out.  I'm  curious." 

"Why  shouldn't  I?"  demanded  Keith. 

"Well,  men  come  here  either  for  money,  for  adventure,  or  to 
make  a  career."  She  marked  each  on  the  tablecloth  with  the  end 
of  a  fork.  "Which  is  it?" 

"  Guess,"  laughed  Keith. 

"You  don't  need  money — or  else  you  have  a  wonderful  nerve 
to  take  the  Boyle  house.  I  believe  you  have  the  nerve,  all  right. 
Men  with  your  sort  of  close  curly  hair  are  never — bashful!"  she 
laughed  shortly. 

"Boyle's  rent  is  safe — for  a  while,"  admitted  Keith. 

"Career?"  she  went  on,  looking  him  in  the  eyes  speculatively, 
and  allowing  her  gaze  to  sink  deep  into  his.  He  noticed  that  her 
eyes  were  a  gray  green,  like  semi-precious  stones  of  some  sorts, 
with  surface  lights,  but  also  with  grayer  radiations  that  seemed 
to  go  below  the  surface  to  smouldering  depths — disturbing  eyes, 
like  the  perfume.  "Career?"  she  repeated.  "I  think  you  hold 
yourself  better — a  career  hi  the  riff-raff  of  this  town. "  She  shook 
her  head  archly.  "But  adventure!  Oh,  la!  There's  plenty  of 
that — all  sorts!"  She  gave  the  impression  of  meaning  a  great 
deal  more  than  she  said.  "  I  wish  I  were  a  man ! "  she  exclaimed, 
and  laughed. 

"I'm  glad  you're  not,"  rejoined  Keith  sincerely. 

She  tapped  him  lightly  on  the  arm  with  her  fan. 

"Oh,  la!  "she  cried. 

Keith  laughed  meaningly  and  mischievously.  He  was  feeling 
entirely  at  home — in  his  mental  shirtsleeves — thoroughly  at 
ease. 

"You're  a  lawyer,  are  you  not?"  she  asked  him. 

"Try  to  be." 

"  Going  to  practise?  " 

"If  any  practice  comes  my  way." 

She  looked  at  him,  smiling  slowly. 

"Oh,  it'll  come  fast  enough."  She  seized  her  glass  and  held 
it  to  him.  "  Here's  to  your  career ! "  she  cried.  "  Bottoms  up ! " 


74  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

They  clinked  glasses  and  drank. 

"You  must  meet  people — influential  people,"  she  told  him. 
"We  must  see  what  we  can  do;  I'll  have  some  of  them  in." 

"You're  simply  fine  to  take  all  this  trouble  for  me!" 

She  tapped  him  again  on  the  arm. 

"Silly!  We  take  care  of  our  own  people,  of  course  I  Let's 
plan  it.  Have  you  any  connections  in  town  at  all?  " 

"Well,  I've  met  quite  a  few  people  about  town,  and  I  have 
some  letters." 

"Casual  acquaintances  are  well  enough,  but  your  letters?" 

"I  have  one  to  Calhoun  Bennett,  and  to  Mr.  Dempster,  and 
Mr.  Farwell,  and  Truett " 

But  she  was  making  a  wry  face. 

"What's  the  matter  with  them?"  he  demanded. 

"Cal  Bennett's  all  right— but  the  others— oh,  I  suppose 
they're  all  right  in  a  business  way — but " 

"«ut,  what?" 

She  made  a  helpless  little  gesture. 

"I  can't  describe  it— you  know— the  sort  that  are  always 
so  keen  on  doing  their  dutyl" 

She  laughed;  and  to  his  subconscious  surprise  Keith  found 
himself  saying  sympathetically: 

"  I  know :  the  sort  of  people  who  always  pay  their  debts ! " 

They  looked  into  each  other's  eyes  and  laughed  in  comrade 
ship.  In  sober  life  Keith  did  his  duty  reasonably  well,  and 
was  never  far  behind  financially. 

She  fell  silent  for  a  moment;  then  with  a  muttered  "excuse 
me,"  she  leaned  directly  across  his  shoulder  to  impart  something 
low-voiced  and  giggly  to  the  woman  on  his  right.  To  do  this 
she  leaned  her  breast  against  his  arm  and  shoulder.  The  con 
versation  lasted  some  seconds.  Keith  could  not  hear  a  word 
of  it;  but  he  was  disturbingly  aware  of  her  perfume,  the  softness 
of  her  body,  and  the  warmth  that  struck  even  through  the  in 
tervening  clothing.  She  drew  back  with  a  half  apology. 

"Feminine  nonsense,"  she  told  him.  "Mere  man  couldn't 
be  expected  to  understand."  She  was  herself  a  little  flushed 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  75 

from  leaning  over,  but  she  appeared  not  to  notice  Keith's 
rather  breathless  state.  He  muttered  something,  and  gulped 
at  his  champagne. 

"Do  you  know  Mrs.  Sherwood?"  he  asked,  merely  to  say 
something. 

But  to  his  surprise  Mrs.  Morrell  answered  him  shortly,  her 
manner  changing: 

"No,  I  don't.     We  draw  the  line  somewhere!" 

Again  she  addressed  the  woman  on  the  right,  but  this  time 
without  leaning  across: 

"Oh,  Amy,  the  fair  Patricia  has  another  victim!"  and  laughed 
rather  shrilly.  Suddenly  she  rapped  the  table  with  the  handle 
of  a  knife.  "Stop  it!"  she  cried  to  the  company  at  large. 
"You're  making  too  much  noise!" 

They  all  turned  to  her  except  one  youth  who  was  too  noisily 
busy  with  his  partner  to  have  heard  her.  Failing  in  another 
attempt  to  get  his  attention,  Mrs.  Morrell  picked  up  a  chutik 
of  French  bread  and  hurled  it  at  him. 

"Good  shot!"  "Bravo!"  "Encore!"  came  a  burst  of  ap 
plause,  as  the  bread,  largely  by  accident,  took  him  squarely  be 
tween  the  eyes. 

The  youth,  though  astonished,  was  game.  He  retaliated 
in  kind.  Keith  whipped  up  an  empty  plate  and  intercepted  it. 
The  youth's  partner  came  to  his  assistance.  Keith,  a  plate  in 
either  hand,  deftly  protected  Mrs.  Morrell  from  the  flying  mis 
siles.  The  implied  challenge  was  instantly  accepted  by  all. 
The  air  was  full  of  bread.  Keith's  dexterity  was  tested  to  the 
utmost,  but  he  came  through  the  battle  with  flying  colours. 
Everybody  threw  bread.  There  was  much  explosive  laughter, 
that  soon  became  fairly  exhausting.  The  battle  ceased,  both  be 
cause  the  combatants  were  out  of  ammunition,  and  because  they 
were  too  weak  from  mirth  to  proceed.  Keith  with  elaborate  mock 
gallantry  turned  and  presented  Mrs.  Morrell  with  the  two  plates. 

"The  spoils  of  war!"  he  told  her. 

"He  should  be  decorated  for  conspicuous  gallantry  on  the 
field  of  battle!"  cried  some  one. 


76  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

The  idea  took.  But  they  could  find  nothing  appropriate 
until  Teeny  McFarlane  deliberately  stepped  up  on  the  table 
and  broke  from  the  glass  chandelier  one  of  its  numerous  dan 
gling  prisms.  This  called  forth  a  mild  protest  from  Morrell — 
"Oh,  I  say!" — which  was  drowned  in  a  wild  shriek  of  delight. 
The  process  of  stepping  down  from  the  table  tilted  Teeny's 
wide  skirts  so  that  for  an  instant  a  slim  silken  leg  was  plainly 
visible  as  far  as  the  knee.  "Oh!  oh!"  cried  every  one.  Some 
pretended  to  be  shocked,  and  covered  their  faces  with  spread 
fingers;  others  feigned  to  try  for  another  look.  Teeny  was  quite 
unperturbed. 

Keith  was  the  centre  of  attention  and  a  great  success.  But 
there  were  no  more  tete-a-tetes.  Mrs.  Morrell  managed  to 
convey  the  idea  that  she  was  displeased,  and  Keith  was  of  a 
sufficiently  generous  and  ingenuous  disposition  to  be  intrigued 
by  the  fact.  He  had  no  chance  to  probe  the  matter.  In  a 
moment  or  so  Mrs.  Morrell  rose  and  strolled  toward  the  draw 
ing-room.  The  others  straggled  after  her.  She  rather  liked 
thus  to  emphasize  her  lack  of  convention  as  a  hostess,  making 
a  pose  of  never  remembering  the  proper  thing  to  do.  Now  she 
moved  here  and  there,  laughing  her  shrill  rather  mirthless  laugh, 
calling  everybody  "dearie,"  uttering  abrupt  little  platitudes. 
Keith  found  himself  left  behind,  and  rather  out  in  the  cold. 
The  company  had  quite  frankly  segregated  itself  into  couples. 
The  room  was  well  adapted  to  this,  filled  as  it  was  with  com 
fortable  chairs  arranged  with  apparent  carelessness  two  by  two. 
The  men  lighted  cigars.  Keith  saw  Nan's  eyes  widen  at  this. 
She  was  sitting  near  the  fire,  and  Sansome  had  penned  her  in 
beyond  the  possibility  of  invasion  by  a  third.  At  this  date 
smoking  was  a  more  or  less  doubtfully  considered  habit,  and 
in  the  best  society  men  smoked  only  in  certain  rigidly  specified 
circumstances.  In  a  drawing-room  such  an  action  might  be 
considered  the  fair  equivalent  to  powdering  the  feminine  nose. 

In  such  a  condition  Keith  was  left  rather  awkwardly  alone, 
and  was  fairly  thrust  upon  a  fictitious  interest  in  a  photograph 
album,  at  which  he  glowered  for  some  moments.  Then  by  a 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  77 

well-planned  and  skilfully  executed  flank  movement  he  caught 
Mrs.  Morrell. 

"Look  here,"  he  demanded;  "what  has  the  standing  army 
done  to  deserve  abandonment  in  a  hostile  country?" 

But  she  looked  at  him  directly,  without  response  to  his  play 
ful  manner. 

"My  friend,"  she  said,  "this  is  a  pretty  free  and  easy  town, 
as  no  doubt  you  have  observed,  and  society  is  very  mixed.  But 
we  haven't  yet  come  to  receiving  women  like  Mrs.  Sherwood,  or 
relishing  their  being  mentioned  to  us." 

"Why,  what's  the  matter  with  her?"  demanded  Keith,  aston 
ished.  "Is  she  as  far  from  respectability  as  all  that?" 

"  Respectable !  That  word  isn't  understood  in  San  Francisco." 
She  appeared  suddenly  to  soften.  "  You're  a  dear  innocent  boy, 
so  you  are,  and  you've  got  a  dear  innocent  little  wife,  and  I'll 
have  to  look  out  for  you." 

Before  the  deliberate  and  superior  mockery  in  her  eyes  as 
well  as  in  her  voice,  Keith  felt  somehow  like  a  small  boy.  He 
was  stung  to  a  momentary  astonishing  fury. 

"By  God "  he  began,  and  checked  himself  with  difficulty. 

She  smiled  at  him  slowly. 

"Perhaps  I  didn't  mean  all  of  that,"  she  said;  "perhaps  only 
half  of  it,"  she  added  with  significance.  "My  personal  opinion 
is  that  you  are  likely  to  be  a  curly  haired  little  devil;  and  whep 
you  look  at  me  like  that,  I'm  glad  we're  not  alone." 

She  looked  at  him  an  enigmatic  moment,  then  turned  away 
from  the  table  near  which  they  had  been  standing.  "Come, 
help  me  break  up  some  of  this  'twosing,'"  she  said. 

Shortly  after  this  the  party  dispersed.  Mrs.  Morrell  said 
good-bye  to  them  carelessly,  or  not  at  all,  according  as  it  hap 
pened. 

"You  must  come  again,  come  often,"  she  told  the  Keiths. 
"It's  pretty  dull  unless  you  make  your  own  fun."  She  was 
half  sleepily  conventional,  her  lids  heavy.  "Perhaps  we  can 
have  some  music  soon,"  she  added.  The  words  were  careless, 
but  she  shot  Keith  an  especial  gleam. 


78  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

The  Keiths  walked  sociably  home  together,  almost  in  silence. 
Keith,  after  his  habit,  super-excited  with  all  the  fun,  the  row, 
and  the  half-guilty  boyish  feeling  of  having  done  a  little  some 
thing  he  ought  not  to  have  done,  did  not  want  to  seem  too 
enthusiastic. 

"Jolly  crowd,"  he  remarked. 

"They  were  certainly  noisy  enough,"  said  Nan  indifferently ; 
then  after  a  moment,  "Where  do  you  suppose  some  of  them 
get  their  clothes?" 

Keith's  mind  was  full  of  the  excitement  of  the  evening. 
He  found  himself  reviewing  the  company,  appraising  it,  won 
dering  about  it.  Was  Teeny  McFarlane  as  gay  as  she  appeared? 
He  had  never  seen  women  smoke  before,  but  that  dark  girl  with 
the  red  thing  in  her  hair  purled  a  cigarette.  Perhaps  she  was 
Spanish — he  had  not  met  her.  And  Mrs.  Morrell — hanged  if 
he  quite  dared  make  her  out — it  wouldn't  do  to  jump  to  con 
clusions  nor  too  hastily  to  apply  Eastern  standards;  this  was 
a  new  country,  fatal  to  make  a  fool  mistake;  well-built  crea 
ture,  by  gad- 
Nan  interrupted  his  thoughts.  He  came  to  with  a  start. 
"I  think  we'd  better  put  the  big  armchair  in  the  front  room, 
after  all,"  she  was  saying. 


XII 

NEXT  morning  Keith  allayed  what  little  uneasiness  his 
conscience  might  harbour  by  remarking,  as  he  adjusted 
his  collar: 

"Mrs.  Morrell  is  an  amusing  type,  don't  you  think?  She's 
a  bit  vulgar,  but  she  seems  good  hearted.  Wonder  what  colour 
her  hair  used  to  be?" 

"I  suppose  they  are  all  right,"  said  Nan.  "They  are  a  little 
rowdy.  They  gave  me  a  headache." 

Illogically  rehabilitated  in  his  own  self-esteem,  Keith  went 
on  dressing.  He  was  "on"  to  Mrs.  Morrell;  her  methods 
were  pretty  obvious.  Wonder  if  she  thought  she  had  really 
fooled  him?  Next  time  he  would  be  on  guard  and  beat  her  at 
her  own  game.  She  was  not  a  woman  to  his  taste,  anyway — 
he  glanced  admiringly  at  Nan's  clean  profile  against  the  light — 
but  she  was  full  of  vitality,  she  was  keen,  she  was  brimming 
with  the  joy  of  life. 

The  long  drive  over  the  Peninsula  to  the  sea  and  back,  the 
episode  of  the  Spanish  people,  the  rowdy  supper  party,  had  one 
effect,  however:  it  had  made  so  decided  a  break  in  the  routine 
that  Keith  found  himself  thrust  quite  outside  it.  He  had 
worked  feverishly  all  the  week,  at  about  double  speed;  and  in 
ordinary  course  would  have  gone  on  working  feverishly  at  double 
speed  for  another  week.  Now,  suddenly,  the  thought  was  irk 
some.  He  did  not  analyze  this;  but,  characteristically,  dis 
covered  an  irrefutable  reason  for  not  going  on  with  it.  They 
rescued  Gringo  from  Sam's  care,  and  drove  up  to  the  house. 
On  the  way  Keith  said: 

"Look  here,  Nan;  do  you  suppose  you  and  Whig  can  get  on 
all  right  this  morning?  All  the  heavy  work  is  done.  I  really 

79 


8o  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

ought  to  be  settling  the  office  and  getting  some  lines  laid  for 
business." 

"Why,  of  course  we  can  get  on,  silly!"  she  rejoined.  "This 
isn't  your  job,  anyway.  Of  course  you  ought  to  attend  to 
your  business." 

Keith  again  consulted  Palmer,  Cook  &  Co.  The  same  clerk 
showed  him  offices.  He  was  appalled  at  the  rents.  Even  a 
miserable  little  back  room  in  the  obscurer  blocks  commanded  a 
sum  higher  than  he  had  anticipated  paying.  After  looking  at 
a  dozen,  he-  finally  decided  on  a  front  room  in  the  Merchants' 
Exchange  Building.  This  was  one  of  the  most  expensive,  but 
Keith  was  tired  of  looking.  The  best  is  the  greatest  economy 
in  the  long  run,  he  told  himself,  and  with  a  lawyer,  new-come, 
appearances  count  for  much  in  getting  clients.  Must  get  the 
clients,  though,  to  support  this  sort  of  thing!  The  rest  of  the 
morning  he  spent  buying  furniture. 

About  noon  he  walked  back  to  the  Bella  Union.  His  horse 
and  buggy  were  not  hitched  to  the  rail,  so  he  concluded  Nan  had 
not  yet  returned  for  lunch.  Mrs.  Sherwood,  however,  was  seated 
in  a  rocker  at  the  sunny  end  of  the  long  veranda.  She  looked 
most  attractive,  her  small  smooth  head  bent  over  some  sort  of 
fancywork.  Before  she  looked  up  Keith  had  leisure  to  note  the 
poise  of  her  head  and  shoulders,  the  fine  long  lines  of  her  figure, 
and  the  arched-browed  serenity  of  her  eyes.  Different  type 
this  from  the  full-breasted  Morrell,  more — more  patrician! 
Rather  absurd  in  view  of  their  respective  places  in  society,  but 
a  fact.  Keith  found  himself  swiftly  speculating  on  Mrs.  Sher 
wood's  origin  and  experience.  She  was  endowed  with  a  new 
glamour  because  of  Mrs.  Morrell's  enigmatic  remark  the  eve 
ning  before,  and  also — for  Keith  was  very  human — with  a  new 
attraction.  Feeling  vaguely  and  boyishly  devilish,  Keith 
stopped. 

She  nodded  at  him,  laying  her  work  aside. 

"You  are  practically  invisible,"  she  told  him. 

"Making  ourselves  a  habitation.     Seen  Mrs.  Keith?" 

"No.    I  don't  think  she's  come  in." 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  811 

Keith  hesitated,  then: 

"I  think  I'll  go  up  to  the  house  for  her." 

Mrs.  Sherwood  nodded,  and  resumed  her  work  calmly,  with 
out  further  remark. 

At  the  house  Keith  found  Nan,  her  apron  on,  her  hair  done 
up  under  a  dust  cap,  very  busy. 

"Noon?"  she  cried,  astonished.  "It  can't  be!  But  I  can't 
stop  now.  I  think  I'll  have  Wing  pick  me  up  a  lunch.  There's 
plenty  in  the  house.  It's  too  much  bother  to  clean  up." 

Keith  demurred;  then  wanted  to  stay  for  the  pick-up  lunch 
himself.  Nan  would  have  none  of  it.  She  was  full  of  repressed 
enthusiasm  and  eagerness,  but  she  wanted  to  get  rid  of  him. 

"There's  not  enough.  I  wouldn't  have  you  around.  Go 
away,  that's  a  good  boy!  If  you'll  leave  Whig  and  me  entirely 
alone  we'll  be  ready  to  move  in  to-morrow." 

"Where's  Gringo?"  asked  Keith  by  way  of  indirect  yielding 
— he  had  really  no  desire  for  a  picked-up  lunch. 

"The  little  rascal!  He  started  to  chew  everything  in  the 
place,  so  I  tied  him  hi  the  backyard.  He  pulls  and  flops  dread 
fully.  Do  you  think  he'll  strangle  himself?" 

Keith  looked  out  the  window.  Gringo,  all  four  feet  planted, 
was  determinedly  straining  back  against  his  tether.  The  col 
lar  had  pulled  forward  all  the  loose  skin  of  his  neck,  so  that 
his  eyes  and  features  were  lost  in  wrinkles. 

"He  doesn't  yap,"  volunteered  Nan. 

Keith  gave  it  as  his  opinion  that  Gringo  would  stop  short 
of  suicide,  commended  Gringo's  taciturnity  and  evident  per 
severance,  and  departed  for  the  hotel.  In  the  dining-room  he 
saw  Mrs,  Sherwood  in  a  riding  habit,  eating  alone.  Keith 
hesitated,  then  took  the  vacant  seat  opposite.  She  accorded 
this  permission  cordially,  but  without  coquetry,  remarking  that 
Sherwood  often  did  not  get  in  at  noon.  Immediately  she 
turned  the  conversation  to  Keith's  affairs,  inquiring  in  detail 
as  to  how  the  settling  was  getting  on,  when  they  expected  to  get 
in,  how  they  liked  the  house,  whether  they  had  bought  all  the 
furniture. 


82  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

"You  remember  I  directed  you  to  the  auctions?"  she  said. 

She  asked  all  these  questions  directly,  as  a  man  would,  and 
listened  to  his  replies. 

"I  suppose  you  have  an  office  picked  out?"  she  surmised. 

At  his  mention  of  the  Merchants'  Exchange  Building  she 
raised  her  arched  eyebrows  half  humorously. 

"You  picked  out  an  expensive  place." 

Keith  went  over  his  reasoning,  to  which  she  listened  with  a 
half  smile. 

"You  may  be  right,"  she  commented;  "the  reasoning  is 
perfectly  sound.  But  that  means  you  must  get  the  business  in 
order  to  make  it  pay.  What  are  your  plans?" 

He  confessed  that  as  yet  they  were  rather  vague;  there  had 
not  been  time  to  do  much — too  busy  settling. 

"The  usual  thing,  I  suppose,"  he  added:  "get  acquainted, 
hang  out  a  shingle,  mix  with  people,  sit  down  and  starve  in  the 
traditional  manner  of  young  lawyers." 

He  laughed  lightly,  but  she  refused  to  joke. 

"There  are  a  good  many  lawyers  here — and  most  of  them 
poor  ones,"  she  told  him.  "The  difficulty  is  to  stand  out 
above  the  ruck,  to  become  noticed.  You  must  get  to  know  all 
classes,  of  course;  but  especially  those  of  your  own  profession, 
men  on  the  bench.  Yes,  especially  men  on  the  bench,  they  may 
help  you  more  than  any  others — 

He  seemed  to  catch  a  little  cynicism  in  her  implied  meaning, 
and  experienced  a  sense  of  shock  on  his  professional  side. 

"You  don't  mean  that  judges  are " 

"Susceptible  to  influence?"  She  finished  the  sentence  for 
him  with  an  amused  little  laugh.  She  studied  him  for  an  in 
stant  with  new  interest.  "They're  human— more  human  here 
than  anywhere  else — like  the  rest  of  us — they  respond  to  kind 
treatment—  She  laughed  again,  but  at  the  sight  of  his  face 
her  own  became  grave.  She  checked  herself.  "Everything  is 
so  new  out  here.  In  older  countries  the  precedents  have  all 
been  established.  Out  here  there  are  practically  none.  They 
are  being  made  now,  every  day,  by  the  present  judges.  Natu- 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  83 

rally  personal  influence  might  get  a  hearing  for  one  point  of 
view  or  the  other " 

"I  see  what  you  mean,"  he  agreed,  his  face  clearing. 

"Join  a  good  fire  company,"  she  advised  him.  "That  is 
the  first  thing  to  do.  Each  company  represents  something  dif 
ferent,  a  different  class  of  men." 

"Which  would  you  advise?"  asked  Keith  seriously. 

"That  is  a  matter  for  your  own  judgment.  Only,  investigate 
well.  Meet  all  the  people  you  can.  Know  the  newspaper 
men,  and  the  big  merchants.  In  your  profession  you  must 
cultivate  men  like  Terry,  Girvin,  Shattuck,  Gwin.  Keep  your 
eyes  open.  Be  bold  and  use  your  wits.  Above  all,  make 
friends;  that's  it,  make  friends — everybody,  everywhere.  Don't 
despise  anybody.  You  will  get  plenty  of  chances."  She  was 
sitting  erect,  and  her  eyes  were  flashing.  Her  usual  slow  indo 
lent  grace  had  fallen  from  her;  she  radiated  energy.  Her  slen 
der  figure  took  on  a  new  appearance  of  knit  strength.  "Such 
chances !  My  heavens !  if  I  were  a  man ! " 

"You'd  make  a  bully  man!"  cried  Keith.  Mrs.  Morrell, 
uttering  the  same  wish,  had  received  from  him  a  different  reply, 
but  he  had  forgotten  that. 

She  laughed  again,  the  tension  broke,  and  she  sank  back 
into  her  usual  relaxed  poise. 

"But,  thank  heavens,  I'm  not,"  said  she. 


XIII 

A  FAIRS  for  the  Keiths  passed  through  another  week  of 
what  might  be  called  the  transition  stage.  It  took  them 
that  long  to  settle  down  in  their  new  house  and  into  some 
semblance  of  a  routine — two  days  to  the  actual  installation,  and 
the  evenings  full  of  small  matters  to  arrange.  Nan  was  busy 
all  day  long  playing  with  her  new  toy.  The  housekeeping  was 
fascinating,  and  Wing  Sam  a  mixture  of  delight  and  despair. 
Like  most  women  who  have  led  the  sheltered  life,  she  had  not 
realized  as  yet  that  the  customs  of  her  own  fraction  of  one  per 
cent,  were  not  immutable.  Therefore,  she  tried  to  model  the 
household  exactly  in  the  pattern  of  those  to  which  she  had  been 
accustomed.  Wing  Sam  blandly  refused  to  be  moulded. 

Thus  Nan  spent  all  one  morning  drilling  him  in  the  proper 
etiquette  of  answering  doors.  Mindful  of  John  McGlynn's 
advice,  she  did  this  by  precept,  ringing  her  own  door  bell, 
presenting  a  card  as  though  calling  on  herself.  Wing  Sam's 
placid  exterior  changed  not.  A  half  hour  later  the  door  bell 
rang,  but  no  Wing  Sam  appeared  to  answer  it.  It  rang  again, 
and  again,  until  Nan  herself  opened  the  door.  On  the  door 
step  stood  Wing  Sam  himself. 

"I  foolee  you,  too,"  he  announced  with  huge  delight. 

Painstakingly  Nan  conveyed  to  him  that  this  was  neither 
an  amusing  game  nor  a  practical  joke.  Later  in  the  day  the 
door  bell  rang  again.  Nan,  hovering  near  to  gauge  the  result 
of  her  training,  saw  Wing  Sam  plant  himself  firmly  in  the  opening. 

"You  got  ticket?"  he  demanded  sternly  of  the  deliveryman 
outside.  "You  no  got  ticket,  you  no  get  in!" 

Which,  Nan  rather  hysterically  gathered,  was  what  Wing 
Sam  had  gained  of  the  calling-card  idea. 

84 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  85 

After  that,  temporarily  as  she  thought,  Nan  permitted  him 
to  go  back  to  his  own  method,  which,  had  she  known  it,  was  the 
method  of  every  Chinese  servant  in  California.  The  visitor 
found  his  bell  answered  by  a  blandly  smiling  Wing  Sam,  who 
cheerfully  remarked:  "Hullo!"  It  was  friendly,  and  it  didn't 
matter;  but  at  that  stage  of  her  development  Nan  was  more  or 
less  scandalized. 

Nan's  sense  of  humour  always  came  to  her  assistance  by 
evening,  and  she  had  many  amusing  anecdotes  to  tell  Keith,  over 
which  both  of  them  laughed  merrily.  Gringo  added  somewhat 
to  the  complications  in  life.  He  was  a  fat,  roly-poly,  soft-boned, 
ingratiating  puppy,  with  a  tail  that  waved  energetically  but  un- 
controlledly.  Gringo  at  times  was  very  naughty,  and  very  much 
in  the  way.  But  when  exasperation  turned  to  vengeance  he  had 
a  way  of  keeling  over  on  his  back,  spreading  his  hind  legs  apart  in 
a  manner  to  expose  his  stomach  freely  to  brutal  assault,  and 
casting  one  calm  china-blue  eye  upward. 

"Can  there  anywhere  exist  any  one  so  hard-hearted  as  to 
injure  a  poor,  absolutely  defenceless  dog?  "  he  inquired,  with  full 
confidence  in  the  answer. 

The  iniquities  of  Gringo  and  the  eccentricities  of  Wing  Sam 
Nan  detailed  at  length,  and  also  her  experiences  with  the  natives. 
She  as  yet  looked  on  every  one  as  natives.  Only  later  could  she 
expand  to  the  point  of  including  them  hi  her  cosmos  of  people. 
Nan  was  transplanted,  and  her  roots  had  not  yet  struck  down 
into  the  soil.  In  her  shopping  peregrinations  she  was  making 
casual  acquaintance,  and  she  had  not  yet  become  accustomed  to 
it. 

"I  bought  some  darling  little  casseroles  at  Phelan's  to-day," 
she  said.  "The  whole  Phelan  family  waited  on  me.  Where  do 
you  suppose  the  women  get  their  perfectly  awful  clothes?  Mrs. 
Phelan  offered  to  take  me  to  her  milliner!"  or  "You  know 
Wilkins — the  furniture  man  where  we  got  the  big  armchair?  I 
was  in  there  to-day,  and  he  apologized  because  his  wife  hadn't 
called!" 

They  went  to  bed  early,  because  they  were  both  very  tired. 


86  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

Keith  also  had  generally  passed  an  interesting  day.  Im 
mediately  after  breakfast  he  went  to  his  office,  and  con 
scientiously  sat  a  while.  Sometimes  he  wrote  letters  or  cast  up 
accounts;  but  there  could  not  be  much  of  this  to  do.  About  ten 
or  eleven  o'clock  his  impatient  temperament  had  had  enough  of 
this,  so  he  drifted  over  to  the  Monumental  engine  house.  After 
considerable  thought  he  had  decided  to  join  this  company.  It 
represented  about  the  class  of  men  with  whom  he  wanted  to 
affiliate  himself — the  influential  men  of  the  lawyer,  Southern- 
politician,  large  business  men  type.  There  were  many  of  these 
volunteer  organizations.  Their  main  purpose  was  to  fight  fire; 
but  they  subserved  other  objects  as  well — political,  social,  and 
financial.  David  Broderick,  for  example,  already  hated  and 
feared,  partly  owned  and  financed  a  company  of  ward-heelers  who 
were  introducing  and  establishing  the  Tammany  type  of  spoils 
politics.  Casey,  later  in  serious  trouble,  practically  manipulated 
another. 

Among  the  Monumentals,  Keith  delighted  especially  in  Bert 
Taylor.  Bert  Taylor  likewise  delighted  in  Keith.  The  little 
chubby  man's  enthusiasm  for  the  company,  while  recognized  as 
most  valuable  to  the  company's  welfare,  had  ended  by  boring 
most  of  the  company's  members.  But  Keith  was  a  new  listener 
and  avid  for  information.  He  had  had  no  notion  of  how  compli 
cated  the  whole  matter  could  be.  Bert  Taylor  dissertated  some 
times  on  one  phase  of  the  subject,  sometimes  on  another. 

"It's  drills  we  need,  and  the  fellows  won't  drill  enough!"  was 
Bert  Taylor's  constant  complaint.  "What  do  they  know  about 
hose?  They  run  it  out  any  way  it  comes;  and  roll  it  up  anyhow, 
instead  of  doing  a  proper  job." 

"How  should  you  do  it?"  asked  Keith. 

"It  ought  to  be  laid  right — so  there's  no  bends  or  sharp  angles 
in  it;  it  should  never  be  laid  over  heaps  of  stones,  or  any  kind  of 
uneven  surface — it  all  increases  the  water  resistance.  If  there 
are  any  bends  or  curves  they  should  be  regular  and  even.  The 
hose  ought  never  to  rest  against  a  sharp  edge  or  angle.  And 
when  you  coil  it  up  you  ought  to  reverse  the  sides  every  time,  s<> 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  87 

it  will  wear  even  and  stretch  even.  Do  they  do  it?  Not  unless 
I  stand  over  them  with  a  club!" 

He  showed  Keith  the  hose,  made  of  India  rubber,  a  compara 
tively  new  thing,  for  heretofore  hose  had  been  made  of  riveted 
leather.  Bert  Taylor  made  him  feel  the  inside  of  this  hose  with 
his  forefinger  to  test  its  superlative  smoothness. 

"Mighty  little  resistance  there! "  he  cried  triumphantly. 

The  nozzles,  all  in  racks,  he  handled  with  almost  reverent  care. 

" These  are  the  boys  that  cost  the  money,"  said  Taylor.  "If 
the  inside  isn't  polished  like  a  mirror  the  water  doesn't  come 
smooth.  And  the  least  little  dent  makes  the  stream  ragged  and 
broken.  Nothing  looks  worse — and  it  isn't  as  effective  on  the 
fire.  It  ought  to  be  thrown  like  a  solid  rod  of  water.  I  can't  get 
the  boys  to  realize  that  the  slightest  bruise,  dent,  or  burr  throws 
the  stream  in  a  ragged  feathery  foam.  The  result  of  that  is 
that  a  lot  of  water  is  dissipated  and  lost." 

Keith,  who  had  taken  hold  of  the  nozzle  rather  negligently,  re 
turned  it  with  the  reverent  care  due  crown  jewels. 

"How  long  a  stream  will  it  throw?  "  he  asked. 

"  With  thirty  men  on  a  side  she's  done  a  hundred  and  twelve 
feet  high,  and  two  hundred  and  eighteen  for  distance,"  said  Bert 
with  simple  pride. 

He  picked  up  the  nozzle  again. 

"  See  here.  Here's  an  invention  of  my  own.  Cost  money  to  put 
it  in,  too,  because  every  other  nozzle  on  earth  is  made  wrong." 

He  explained  that  other  nozzles  are  made  so  that  the  thread  of 
the  hose  screwed  into  the  nozzle;  while  in  his,  the  thread  of  the 
nozzle  screwed  into  the  hose. 

"If  there's  a  leak  or  a  bad  connection,"  explained  Bert,  "with 
the  old  type,  the  water  is  blown  back  into  the  fireman's  face,  and 
he  is  blinded.  His  whole  efficiency  depends  on  a  close  joint.  But 
with  my  scheme  the  leak  is  blown  forward,  away  from  the  line 
man.  It's  a  perfectly  sound  scheme,  but  I  can't  make  them  see 
it." 

"  Sounds  reasonable,"  observed  Keith,  examining  perfunctorily 
a  device  to  which  later  he  was  to  owe  his  life. 


88  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

Item  by  item  they  went  over  the  details  of  equipment — the 
scaling  ladders,  the  jumping  sheets,  the  branch  pipes,  the  suction 
pipes,  the  flat  roses,  standcocks,  goose  necks,  the  dogtails,  dam 
boards,  shovels,  saws,  poleaxes,  hooks,  and  ropes.  From  a  con 
sideration  of  them  the  two  branched  off  to  the  generalities  of  fire 
fighting.  Keith  learned  that  the  combating  of  a  fire,  the 
driving  it  into  a  corner,  outflanking  it,  was  a  fine  art. 

"I  say  always,  get  in  close,"  said  Taylor.  "A  fire  can  be  put 
out  as  well  as  just  drowned  out." 

It  struck  Keith  as  interesting  that  in  a  room  a  stream  should 
always  be  directed  at  the  top  of  a  fire,  so  that  the  water  running 
down  helps  extinguish  the  flames  below,  whereas  in  attack  at  the 
bottom  or  centre  merely  puts  out  the  immediate  blaze,  leaving 
the  rest  to  spread  upward  or  sideways.  Taylor  put  himself  on 
record  against  fighting  fire  from  the  street. 

"Don't  want  a  whole  lot  of  water  and  row,"  he  maintained. 
"Get  in  close  quarters  and  make  every  drop  count." 

WhenBert's  enthusiasm  palled,  Keith  always  found  men  in  the 
reading-room.  The  engine  house  was  a  sort  of  clearing  house 
for  politics,  business  schemes,  personal  affairs,  or  differences. 

Once  a  day,  also,  as  part  of  his  job  in  his  profession,  Keith  went 
to  the  courthouse.  There  he  sat  in  the  enclosure  reserved  for 
lawyers  and  listened  to  the  proceedings,  his  legal  mind  alert  and 
interested  in  the  technical  battles.  At  no  tune  in  the  world's 
history  has  sheer  technicality  unleavened  by  commonsense  been 
carried  further  than  in  the  early  California  courts.  Even  in  the 
most  law-ridden  times  elsewhere  a  certain  check  has  been  ex 
ercised  by  public  opinion  or  the  presence  of  business  interests. 
But  here  was  as  yet  no  public  opinion;  and  business  interests, 
their  energies  fully  taxed  by  the  necessities  of  a  new  country, 
were  willing  to  pay  heavily  to  be  let  alone.  Consequently, 
lawyers  were  permitted  to  play  out  their  fascinating  game  to 
their  hearts'  content,  and  totally  without  reference  to  expedience 
or  to  the  justice  of  the  case.  The  battles  were  indeed  intensely 
technical  and  shadowy.  Points  within  points  were  fought 
bitterly.  Often  for  days  the  real  case  at  issue  was  forgotten. 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  89 

Only  one  of  the  more  obvious  instances  of  technical  triumph 
need  be  cited.  One  man  killed  another,  on  a  public  street,  before 
many  witnesses.  The  indictment  was,  however,  thrown  out  and 
he  released  because  it  stated  only  that  the  victim  was  killed  by  a 
pistol,  and  failed  to  specify  that  his  death  was  due  to  the  dis 
charge  of  said  pistol.  The  lawyer  who  evolved  this  brilliant 
idea  was  greatly  admired  and  warmly  congratulated. 

The  wheels  of  the  law  ground  very  slowly.  One  of  the  simplest 
and  most  effective  expedients  of  defence  was  delay.  A  case 
could  be  postponed  and  remanded,  often  until  the  witnesses 
were  scattered  or  influenced.  But  there  were  infinite  numbers  of 
legal  expedients,  all  most  interesting  to  a  man  of  Keith's  pro 
fession.  His  sense  of  justice  was  naturally  strong  and  warm ,  and 
an  appeal  to  it  outside  a  courtroom  or  a  law  office  always  got  an 
immediate  and  commonsense  response.  But  inside  the  law  his 
mind  automatically  closed,  and  a  "case"  could  have  only  legal 
aspects.  Which  is  true  of  the  majority  of  lawyers  to-day. 

On  the  adjournment  of  court  Keith  generally  drifted  over  to 
the  El  Dorado  or  the  Empire,  where  he  spent  an  hour  or  so  loaf 
ing  with  some  of  his  numerous  acquaintances.  He  was  of  the 
temperament  that  makes  itself  quickly  popular,  the  laughing, 
hearty  sort,  full  of  badinage,  and  genuinely  liking  most  men  with 
whom  he  came  in  contact.  There  was  always  much  joking  in 
the  air,  but  back  of  it  was  a  certain  reserve,  a  certain  wariness,  for 
every  second  man  was  a  professed  "fire-eater,"  given  to  feeling 
insulted  on  the  slightest  grounds,  and  flying  to  the  duel  or  the 
street  fight  instanter. 

This  hour  was  always  most  pleasant  to  Keith;  nevertheless,  he 
went  home  about  five  o'clock  in  order  to  enjoy  an  hour  or  so  of 
daylight  about  the  place.  He  performed  prodigies  of  digging  in 
the  new  garden:  constructing  terraces,  flower  beds,  walks,  and 
the  like.  While  the  actual  construction  work  was  under  way  he 
was  greatly  interested,  but  cared  nothing  for  the  finished  product 
or  the  mere  growing  of  the  flowers. 

Gringo  received  his  share  of  training,  at  first  to  his  intense 
disgust.  Twice  he  refused  obedience,  and  the  matter  being 


90  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

pressed,  resorted  to  the  simple  expedient  of  retiring  from  the 
scene.  Keith  dropped  everything  and  pursued.  Gringo  crawled 
under  things,  but  was  followed  even  to  the  dustiest  and  cob- 
webbiest  farthest  corner  under  the  porch;  he  tried  swiftness  and 
dodging,  but  was  trailed  in  all  his  doublings  and  twistings  at  top 
speed;  he  tried  running  straight  away  over  the  sand  hills,  and  at 
first  left  his  horrible  master  behind,  but  the  horrible  master 
possessed  a  horrible  persistence.  Finally  he  shut  his  eyes  and 
squatted,  expecting  instant  annihilation,  but  instead  was  haled 
back  to  the  exact  scene  of  his  disobedience,  and  the  command  re 
peated.  Nan  laughed  until  the  tears  came,  over  the  large, 
warm,  red-faced  man  after  the  small,  obstinate,  scared  pup,  but 
Keith  refused  to  joke. 

"If  he  finds  he  can't  get  away,  no  matter  what  happens,  I'll 
never  have  to  do  it  again,"  he  panted.  "  But  if  he  wins  out,  even 
once,  it'll  be  an  awful  job." 

Gringo  tried  twice.  Then,  his  faith  in  his  ability  to  escape 
completely  shattered,  he  gave  up.  After  that  he  adored  Keith 
and  was  always  under  his  feet. 

Keith  saw  nothing  of  any  of  the  women.  Mrs.  Sherwood 
seemed  to  have  dropped  from  their  ken  when  they  left  the  hotel. 
Once  Keith  inquired  casually  about  Mrs.  Morrell. 

"  She's  been  over  twice  to  see  the  place,"  replied  Nan. 

"We  ought  to  go  over  there  to  call,"  proffered  Keith  vaguely; 
but  there  the  matter  rested. 


XIV 

ONE  night  Keith  was  awakened  by  Nan's  suddenly 
sitting  up  in  bed.  There  came  to  his  struggling  con 
sciousness  the  persistent  steady  clangour  of  many 
deep  bells.  Slowly  recognition  filtered  into  his  mind — the  fire 
bells! 

He  hastily  pulled  on  some  clothes  and  ran  down  thef  ront  stairs, 
stumbling  over  Gringo,  who  uttered  an  outraged  yelp.  From 
the  street  he  could  see  a  red  glow  in  the  sky.  At  top  speed  he 
ran  down  the  street  in  the  direction  of  the  Monumental.  In  the 
half  darkness  he  could  make  out  other  figures  running.  The 
deep  tones  of  the  bells  continued  to  smite  his  ear,  but  now  in 
addition  he  heard  the  tinkling  and  clinking  of  innumerable 
smaller  bells — those  on  the  machines.  He  dashed  around  a  corner 
to  encounter  a  double  line  of  men,  running  at  full  speed, 
hauling  on  a  long  rope  attached  to  an  engine.  Their  mouths 
were  open,  and  they  were  all  yelling.  The  light  engine  careened 
and  swayed  and  bumped.  Two  men  clung  to  the  short  steering 
tongue,  trying  to  guide  it.  They  were  thrown  violently  from 
side  to  side,  dragged  here  and  there,  tripping,  hauling,  falling 
across  the  tongue,  but  managing  to  keep  the  machine  from 
dashing  off  at  a  tangent.  Above  them,  high  and  precarious, 
swayed  the  short  stout  figure  of  Bert  Taylor.  He  was  in  full 
regalia — leather  helmet,  heavy  leather  belt,  long- tailed  coat, 
and  in  his  free  hand  the  chased  silver  speaking  trumpet  with 
the  red  tassels  that  usually  hung  on  the  wall.  He  was  in  his 
glory,  dominating  the  horde.  His  keen  eye,  roving  everywhere, 
seeing  everything,  saw  Keith. 

" Catch  hold!"  he  roared  through  the  trumpet. 

Keith  made  a  flying  grab  at  a  vacant  place  on  the  line,  caught 

9* 


92  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

it,  was  almost  jerked  from  his  feet,  recovered  himself,  and  charged 
on,  yelling  like  the  rest. 

But  now  Bert  Taylor  began  to  shriek  something  excitedly.  It 
became  evident,  from  glimpses  caught  down  the  side  streets,  but 
especially  through  the  many  vacant  lots,  that  another  engine 
was  paralleling  their  own  course  a  block  away. 

"Jump  her,  boys,  jump  her!"  shrieked  Bert  Taylor.  "For 
God's  sake,  don't  let  those  Eurekas  beat  you!" 

He  danced  about  on  top  of  the  waterbox  of  the  engine,  in 
imminent  peril  of  being  jerked  from  his  place,  battering  his 
silver  trumpet  insanely  against  the  brake  rods,  beseeching, 
threatening  profanely.  And  profanity  at  that  time  was  a  fine 
art.  Men  studied  its  alliteration,  the  gorgeousness  of  its 
imagery,  the  blast  of  its  fire.  The  art  has  been  lost,  existing 
still,  in  a  debased  form,  only  among  mule  drivers,  sailors,  and  the 
owners  of  certain  makes  of  automobiles.  The  men  on  the  rope 
responded  nobly.  The  roar  of  their  going  over  the  plank  road 
was  like  hollow  thunder.  A  man  dropped  out.  Next  day  it 
was  discovered  he  had  broken  his  leg  in  a  hole.  At  tremendous 
speed  they  charged  through  the  ring  of  spectators,  and  drew  up, 
proud  and  panting,  victors  by  a  hundred  feet,  to  receive  the 
plaudits  of  the  multitude.  A  handsome  man  on  a  handsome 
horse  rode  up. 

"Monumentals  on  the  fire!  Eurekas  on  cistern  number 
twenty!"  he  commanded  briefly. 

This  was  Charles  Duane,  the  unpaid  fire  chief,  a  likable, 
efficient  man,  but  too  fond  of  the  wrong  sort  of  friends. 

Now  it  became  evident  to  Keith  why  Bert  Taylor  had  urged 
them  so  strongly  in  the  race.  The  fire  was  too  distant  from  the 
water  supply  to  be  carried  in  one  length  of  hose.  Therefore,  one 
engine  was  required  to  relay  to  another,  pumping  the  water  from 
the  cistern,  through  the  hose,  and  into  the  waterbox  of  the 
other  engine.  The  other  engine  pumped  it  from  its  own 
waterbox  on  to  the  fire.  The  latter,  of  course,  was  the  position 
of  honour. 

The  Eurekas  fell  back  grumbling,  and  uttering  open  threats  to 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  93 

wash  their  rivals.  By  this  they  meant  that  they  would  pump 
water  into  the  Monumentals  faster  than  the  latter  could  pump  it 
out,  thus  overflowing  and  eternally  disgracing  them.  They 
dropped  their  suction  hose  into  the  cistern,  and  one  of  their 
number  held  the  end  of  the  main  hose  over  a  little  trapdoor  in 
the  MonumentaTs  box.  The  crews  sprang  to  the  long  brake 
handles  on  either  side,  and  at  once  the  regular  thud,  thud,  thud  of 
the  pumps  took  up  its  rhythm.  The  hose  writhed  and  swelled; 
the  light  engines  quivered.  Bert  Taylor  and  the  Eureka  fore 
man,  Carter  by  name,  walked  back  and  forth  as  on  their  quarter 
decks,  exhorting  their  men.  Relays,  in  uniform  assumed  on  the 
spot,  stood  ready  at  hand.  Nobody  in  either  crew  knew  or 
cared  anything  whatsoever  about  the  fire.  As  the  race  became 
closer,  the  foremen  got  more  excited,  begging  their  crews  to  in 
crease  the  stroke,  beating  their  speaking  trumpets  into  shapeless 
battered  relics.  An  astute  observer  would  now  have  understood 
one  reason  why  the  jewellery  stores  carried  such  a  variety 
of  fancy  speaking  trumpets.  They  were  for  presentation  by 
grateful  owners  after  the  fire  had  been  extinguished,  and  it  was 
generally  necessary  to  get  a  new  one  for  each  fire. 

Keith,  acting  under  previous  instructions,  promptly  seized  a 
helmet  and  poleaxe  and  made  his  way  to  the  front.  The  fire  had 
started  in  one  of  many  flimsy  wooden  buildings,  and  had  rapidly 
spread  to  threaten  a  whole  district.  Men  from  the  hook  and 
ladder  companies  were  already  at  work  on  some  of  the  hopeless 
cases.  A  fireman  or  two-mounted  ladders  to  the  eaves,  dragging 
with  them  a  heavy  hook  on  the  end  of  a  long  pole.  Cutting  a 
small  hole  with  their  axes,  they  hooked  on  this  apparatus  and 
descended.  As  many  firemen  and  volunteers  as  could  get  hold  of 
the  pole  and  the  rope  attached  to  it,  now  began  to  pull. 

"  Yo,  heave  ho!"  they  cried. 

The  timbers  cracked,  broke,  the  whole  side  of  the  house  came 
out  with  a  grand  and  satisfying  crash.  An  inferno  of  flame  was 
thereby  laid  open  to  the  streams  from  the  hose  lines.  It  was 
grand  destructive  fun  for  everybody,  especially  for  the  boys  of  all 
ages,  which  included  in  spirit  about  every  male  person  present. 


94  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

This  sort  of  work  was  intended,  of  course,  to  confine  or  check  the 
fire  within  the  area  already  affected,  and  could  accomplish 
nothing  toward  saving  the  structures  already  alight.  The  roar 
of  the  flames,  the  hissing  of  firebrands  sucked  upward,  the  crash 
of  timbers,  the  shrieks  of  the  foremen  through  their  trumpets,  the 
yells  of  applause  or  of  sarcasm  from  the  crowd,  and  the  thud,  thud, 
thud,  thud  of  numerous  brake  bars  made  a  fine  pandemonium. 
Everybody  except  the  owners  or  tenants  of  the  buildings  was 
delighted. 

Keith,  with  two  others,  was  ins  true  ted  to  carry  the  Monumental 
nozzle  to  the  roof  of  a  house  not  afire.  Proudly  they  proceeded 
to  use  their  scaling  ladders.  These  were  a  series  of  short  sections, 
each  about  six  feet  long,  the  tops  slightly  narrower  than  the 
bottoms.  By  means  of  slots  these  could  be  fitted  together. 
First,  Keith  erected  one  of  them  against  the  wall  of  the  building, 
at  an  angle,  and  ascended  it,  carrying  another  section  across 
his  shoulder.  When  he  reached  a  certain  rung,  which  was 
painted  red,  he  thrust  his  foot  through  the  ladder  and  against  the 
wall,  pushed  the  ladder  away  from  the  wall,  and  fitted  the 
section  he  was  carrying  to  the  top  of  the  section  on  which  he  was 
standing.  He  then  hauled  up  another  section  and  repeated. 
When  the  ladder  had  reached  to  the  eaves,  he  and  his  companions 
dragged  the  squirting,  writhing  hose  up  with  them,  chopped  foot 
holds  in  the  roof,  and  lay  flat  to  look  over  the  ridgepole  as  over  a 
breastwork.  All  this  to  the  tune  of  admiring  plaudits  and  with  a 
pleasing  glow  of  heroism.  There  was  a  skylight,  but  either  they 
overlooked  or  scorned  that  prosaic  expedient. 

At  the  other  end  of  the  ridgepole  Keith  made  out  the  dark 
forms  of  two  men  from  another  company.  His  own  companions, 
acting  under  orders,  now  descended  the  ladder,  leaving  him  alone. 

The  next  building  was  a  raging  furnace,  and  on  it  Keith 
directed  the  heavy  stream  from  his  nozzle.  It  was  great  fun.  At 
first  the  water  seemed  to  have  no  effect  whatever,  but  after  a 
little  it  began  to  win.  The  flames  were  beaten  back,  broken  into 
detachments.  Finally,  Keith  got  to  the  point  of  chasing  down 
small  individual  outbreaks,  driving  them  into  their  lairs,  drown- 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  95 

ing  them  as  they  crouched.  He  was  wholly  interested,  and  the 
boy  in  him,  with  a  shamefaced  half  apology  to  the  man  in  him, 
pretended  that  he  was  a  soldier  directing  a  battery  against  an 
enemy. 

Along  the  ridgepole  cautiously  sidled  the  two  men  of  the  other 
company,  dragging  their  hose.  Keith  now  recognized  them.  One 
was  a  vivid,  debonair,  all-confident,  magnetic  individual  named 
Talbot  Ward,  a  merchant,  promoter,  speculator,  whom  every 
body  liked  and  trusted;  the  other  a  fair  Hercules  of  a  man,  slow 
and  powerful  hi  everything,  called  Frank  Munro. 

"Look  here,"  said  Ward,  "does  it  strike  you  this  roof's  getting 
hot?" 

Recalled  to  himself,  Keith  immediately  became  aware  of  the 
fact. 

"The  house  is  afire  beneath  us,"  said  Ward;  "we've  got  to  get 
out." 

"What's  the  matter  with  your  ladder?"  asked  Keith. 

"They  took  it  away." 

"We'll  use  mine." 

They  let  themselves  cautiously  down  the  footholds  that  had 
been  chopped  in  the  roof,  and  looked  over.  A  blast  of  smoke 
and  flame  met  them  in  the  face. 

"Good  Lord,  she's  all  afire!"  cried  Keith,  aghast. 

The  flames  were  licking  around  the  scaling  ladder,  which  was 
already  blazing.  Keith  directed  the  stream  from  his  hose  straight 
down,  but  with  no  other  result  than  to  break  the  charred  ladder. 

They  crawled  back  to  the  ridgepole,  and  worked  their  hose 
lines  around  to  the  end  of  the  building,  out  of  the  flames.  Here  a 
two-story  drop  confronted  them. 

"This  thing  is  going  to  fall  under  us  if  we  don't  do  something," 
muttered  Ward. 

"Duane's  forgotten  us,  and  those  crazy  idiots  at  the  engines 
are  too  busy  trying  to  keep  from  being  washed,"  surmised  Keith. 

"Look  here,"  said  Munro  suddenly;  "I'll  brace  against  a 
chimney  and  hang  on  to  the  hose,  and  you  can  slide  down  it  like  a 
rope." 


96  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

"How  about  you?  "  demanded  Ward  crisply. 

"You  can  run  for  more  ladders,  once  you're  on  the  ground." 

At  this  moment  the  water  failed  in  Keith's  hose.  He  stared  at 
the  nozzle,  then  rapidly  began  to  unscrew  it. 

"  Cistern  empty  or  hose  burst,"  surmised  Munro. 

But  Talbot  Ward,  cocking  his  ear  toward  a  distant  pande 
monium  of  cheering,  guessed  the  true  cause. 

"Sucked,"  said  he.  By  this  he  meant  that  the  Monumental 
crew  had  succeeded  in  emptying  their  waterbox  in  spite  of  the 
Eureka's  best  efforts. 

" Get  off  your  nozzle  quick! "  urged  Keith. 

Munro,  without  stopping  to  ask  why,  bent  his  great  strength 
to  the  task;  and  it  was  a  task,  for  in  his  hose  the  pressure  of  the 
water  was  tremendous.  It  spurted  back  all  over  him,  and  at  the 
last  the  nozzle  was  fairly  blown  away  from  him. 

"Now  couple  my  hose  to  yours  quick,  quick,  before  my  hose 
fills!"  cried  Keith. 

"They  won't  go "  Munro  began  to  object. 

"  Yes,  they  will,  mine's  a  special  thread,"  urged  Keith,  who  had 
remembered  Bert  Taylor's  reversed  nozzle. 

All  three  bent  their  energies  to  catching  the  threads.  It  was  a 
fearful  job,  for  the  strength  of  the  water  had  first  to  be  overcome. 
Keith  was  terribly  excited.  Time  was  precious,  for  not  only 
might  the  roof  give  way  beneath  them,  but  at  any  moment  the 
water  might  come  again  in  Keith's  hose.  Then  it  would  be  physi 
cally  impossible  to  make  the  coupling.  All  three  men  concen 
trated  their  efforts  on  it,  their  fee  t  gripping  the  irregularities  of  the 
roof  or  slipping  on  the  shingles.  Frank  Munro  bent  his  enormous 
back  to  the  task,  the  veins  standing  out  in  his  temples,  his  face 
turning  purple  with  the  effort.  Keith  helped  him  as  well  as  he 
was  able.  Talbot  Ward,  coolly,  deliberately,  delicately,  as 
though  he  had  all  the  time  in  the  world,  manipulated  the  coupling, 
feeling  gingerly  for  the  thread.  The  water  spurted,  fanned, 
sprayed,  escaping  with  violence,  first  at  one  point,  then  at  an 
other,  drenching  and  blinding  them. 

"There!"  breathed  Ward  at  last,  and  with  a  few  twists  of 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  97 

his  sinewy  hands  brought  the  couplings  into  close  connection. 
Munro  relaxed,  drawing  two  or  three  deep  breaths.  Without 
the  aid  of  his  great  strength  the  task  could  not  have  been  ac 
complished. 

"Hook  her  over  the  chimney,"  gasped  Keith. 

With  some  difficulty  they  lifted  the  loop  of  the  throbbing  hose 
over  the  chimney. 

"Down  we  go! "  cried  Keith,  and  slid  hand  over  hand  down  the 
way  thus  made  for  them.  The  others  immediately  followed,  and 
all  three  stood  looking  back.  It  was  a  wonder  the  building  had 
stood  so  long,  for  in  both  stories  it  was  afire,  and  the  walls  had 
apparently  burned  quite  through.  Indeed,  a  moment  later  the 
whole  structure  collapsed.  A  fountain  of  sparks  and  brands 
sprang  upward  in  the  mighty  suction. 

"There  goes  our  good  hose! "  said  Keith. 

The  remark  brought  them  to  wrath  and  a  desire  for  vengeance. 

"I'm  going  to  lick  somebody!"  cried  Keith,  starting  deter 
minedly  in  the  direction  of  the  engine. 

"We'll  help,"  growled  Munro. 

But  when  they  came  in  sight  of  the  engine  their  anger  evapo 
rated,  and  they  clung  to  each  other,  weak  with  mirth. 

For  the  Monumental  was  "washed,"  and  washed  aplenty.  This 
was  natural,  for  now  the  water  was  pouring  into  her  box  from 
both  directions,  and  would  continue  so  to  pour  until  the  hose 
coupled  to  Ward's  engine  had  burned  through.  The  water  was 
fairly  spouting  up  from  the  box,  not  merely  overflowing.  Her 
crew  were  still  working,  but  raggedly  and  dispiritedly.  Bert 
Taylor,  his  trumpet  battered  beyond  all  recognition,  was  fairly 
voiceless  with  rage.  An  interested  and  ribaldly  facetious  crowd 
spared  not  its  sarcasm. 

"My  crowd  must  be  in  the  same  fix ! "  gurgled  Ward;  "  the  back 
pressure  has  'washed'  them,  too."  Then  the  full  splendour  of  the 
situation  burst  on  him,  and  he  fell  again  on  Munro  for  support. 

"Don't  you  see,"  he  gasped.  "They'll  never  know!  The 
hose  will  burn  through.  Unless  we  tell,  they'll  never  know! 
We've  got  even,  all  right." 


p8  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

At  this  moment  Duane  rode  up,  foaming  at  the  mouth,  and 
desiring  to  know  what  the  assorted  adjectives  they  were  doing 
there.  The  crews  awoke  to  their  isolation  and  general  useless- 
ness.  Bert  Taylor,  still  simmering,  descended  from  his  perch. 
They  followed  the  hose  lines  to  glowing  coals ! 

"Here,  this  won't  do,"  said  Talbot;  so  they  reported  them 
selves  before  the  news  of  a  tragedy  had  had  time  to  spread. 

The  fire  was  now  practically  under  control.  It  had  swept  a 
city  block  pretty  clean,  but  had  been  confined  to  that  area.  An 
hour  later  they  dragged  their  engine  rather  dispiritedly  back  to 
the  house.  Ordinarily  they  would  have  been  in  high  spirits. 
Fires  were  to  these  men  a  good  deal  of  a  lark.  The  crews  were 
very  effective  and  well  drilled,  and  the  saving  of  property  was  as 
well  done  as  possible,  but  that  was  all  secondary  to  the  game  of  it. 
But  to-night  they  had  been  "washed,"  they  had  lost  the  game, 
and  the  fact  that  they  had  put  out  the  fire  cut  very  little  figure. 
There  was  much  bickering.  It  seemed  that  Bert  Taylor,  in  his 
enthusiasm,  had,  out  of  his  own  pocket,  hired  extra  men  who 
appeared  at  the  critical  moment  to  relieve  the  tired  men  at  the 
brakes;  and  it  was  under  their  fresh  impetus  that  the  Monu 
mental  had  so  triumphantly  "sucked."  Now  Bert  Taylor  was 
freely  blamed.  The  regular  men  stoutly  maintained  that  if  they 
had  been  left  alone  this  would  never  have  happened. 

"These  whiskey  bummers  never  can  last!"  they  said.  Every 
body  trooped  upstairs  to  the  main  rooms,  where  refreshments 
were  served.  After  some  consideration  Keith  decided  to  tell 
his  story  in  explanation  of  how  it  was  that  the  Monumentals 
were  washed.  Instantly  the  company  cheered  up.  A  clamour 
broke  out.  This  was  great!  With  Talbot  Ward  and  Munro 
to  corroborate,  no  one  could  doubt  the  story.  Taylor  ran  about 
jubilantly,  returning  every  few  moments  to  pat  Keith  on  the 
shoulder. 

"Fine!  fine!"  he  cried.  "We've  got  those  Eurekasl  I  can't 
wait  for  morning!" 


XV 

KEITH  got  home  about  daylight  to  find  Nan,  terribly 
anxious,  waiting  up  for  him.  He  brushed  away  her 
anxiety  with  the  usual  masculine  impatience  at  being 
made  a  fuss  over,  gave  a  brief  account  of  the  fire — omitting 
mention  of  his  narrow  escape — and  insisted  that  she  go  to  bed. 
After  a  few  moments  she  obeyed,  and  immediately  fell  asleep. 
Keith  bathed  himself  and  changed,  made  a  cup  of  coffee, 
and  wandered  about  rather  impatiently  waiting  for  time  to  go 
downtown.  Wing  Sam  appeared,  the  morning  paper  came. 
The  sun  gained  strength,  and  finally  tempted  him  outside. 

For  some  time  he  prowled  around,  examining  Nan's  efforts 
at  gardening.  There  was  not  much  to  show  as  yet,  but  Keith 
had  already  the  eye  of  faith  so  essential  to  the  Calif ornian, 
and  saw  plainly  trees,  shrubs,  and  flowers  where  now  only 
spears  of  green  were  visible.  The  Morrells'  garden  next  door 
was  already  well  grown,  and  he  cast  on  it  an  appraising  eye. 
No  sign  of  life  showed  about  the  place  except  a  thread  of  smoke 
from  the  kitchen  chimney.  It  was  still  early. 

Nevertheless,  five  minutes  later  Mrs.  Morrell  opened  the  side 
door  and  stepped  forth.  She  had  on  a  wide  leghorn  hat,  and 
carried  a  basket  and  scissors  as  though  to  gather  flowers.  Im 
mediately  she  caught  sight  of  Keith  and  waved  him  a  gay 
greeting.  He  vaulted  the  fence  and  joined  her. 

"Aren't  these  early  morning  hours  perfect?  Isn't  this  glori 
ous  sunshine?"  she  greeted  him. 

As  a  matter  of  fact  Mrs.  Morrell  seldom  rose  before  noon, 
and  detested  early  morning  hours  and  glorious  sunshine.  She 
was  inclined  to  consider  the  usual  remarks  in  their  praise  as 
sheer  affectation.  But  she  adored  fires,  and  often  went  to 

QQ 


ioo  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

them  when  they  promised  well  enough.  Sometimes  she  attended 
in  company  with  certain  of  her  men  friends;  and  sometimes 
alone,  cloaked  as  a  man.  She  liked  the  destruction  and  stimu 
lation  of  them.  She  had  been  to  the  fire  just  extinguished, 
and  seeing  Keith  in  the  garden,  had  put  on  her  fluffiest  and  gone 
out  to  him.  It  was  time  this  most  attractive  young  man  next 
door  paid  her  more  attention. 

"How  does  the  hero  of  the  fire  survive?  "she  asked  him  archly. 

"Hero?" 

"Don't  pretend  ignorance.  Charles  told  me  all  about  it. 
He  heard  your  tale  at  the  Monumental." 

"It's  hardly  heroism  to  get  out  of  a  scrape  the  best  way 
possible." 

"It's  heroic  to  save  lives,  I  think;  but  especially  heroic  to 
keep  your  head  in  an  emergency." 

"Mr.  Morrell  all  right?"  asked  Keith,  to  change  the  subject. 

"He  is  sleeping  off  the  fire — and  the  after  effects.  You  men 
need  watching  every  minute — even  when  we  think  you  must  be 
in  danger  of  your  lives." 

She  laughed  and  clipped  a  few  flowers  at  random. 

"Have  you  been  moving  furniture  all  these  days?  We've 
seen  nothing  of  you.  I  thought  we  were  going  to  have  some 
music.  I  do  my  little  five-finger  exercises  all  by  myself  and 
nobody  knows  but  I  am  playing  Beethoven.  You  ought  in 
Christian  charity  to  help  me  out — whether  you  want  to  or  not. 
What  do  you  think  of  our  garden?  Don't  you  adore  flowers?" 

"No,  I  don't  believe  I  do,"  replied  Keith  bluntly.  "I  like 
to  see  a  pretty  woman  amongst  Jem,"  he  went  on  gallantly, 
"they  set  her  off.  It's  like  dresses.  No  good  to  show  me 
pretty  frocks — unless  they're  filled." 

"La!  You  are  so  clever;  at  times  I'm  really  afraid  of  you," 
said  she. 

She  went  on  tossing  a  few  blooms  into  her  basket.  Under 
the  stimulus  of  the  fire  she  had  acted  on  impulse  in  going  out 
into  the  garden.  She  realized  it  as  perhaps  a  mistake.  Keith's 
early  morning  freshness  and  fitness  made  her  feel  less  sure  of 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  ,     161 

herself  than  usual.  She  had  an  uneasy  impression  that  she 
was  not  at  her  best,  and  this  reacted  on  her  ability  to  exercise 
her  usual  magnetism.  In  fact,  Keith,  the  least  observant  of  men 
in  such  things,  could  not  avoid  noticing  her  rather  second-hand 
looking  skin,  and  that  her  features  were  more  pronounced  than 
he  had  thought. 

"Do  come  over  this  evening  for  some  music,"  she  begged. 
"  You  can  take  a  nap  this  afternoon,  and  you  can  go  home  early." 

Keith  had  been  just  a  little  uneasy  over  this  second  interview 
with  Mrs.  Morrell.  His  straightforward  nature  was  inclined 
to  look  back  on  the  impression  she  had  made  on  him  at  the 
supper  party  with  a  half-guilty  sense  of  some  sort  of  vague 
disloyalty  he  could  not  formulate.  Now  he  felt  much  satisfied 
with  himself,  and  quite  relieved.  Therefore,  he  accepted. 

"I  shall  be  very  glad  to,"  said  he. 

At  breakfast,  which  was  rather  late,  he  told  Nan  of  the  meet 
ing  and  the  invitation.  Nan's  clear  lines,  fresh  creamy  skin, 
bright  young  eyes,  looked  more  than  usually  attractive  to  him. 

"Perhaps  she  can  play,"  he  said.  "Let's  go  find  out.  And 
you  must  wear  your  pretties',  gown;  I'm  proud  of  my  wife,  and 
I  want  her  to  look  her  very  best." 

A  little  later  he  remarked: 

"I  wonder  if  she  isn't  considerably  older  than  Morrell." 


,1  ~  . 


XVI 

WHEN  he  had  at  last  reached  downtown  after  his  late 
breakfast,  Keith  found  it  in  a  fair  turmoil.  Knots  of 
men  stood  everywhere  arguing,  sometimes  very  heat 
edly.  Eureka  members  were  openly  expressing  their  anger 
over  what  they  called  Taylor's  "dirty  trick"  in  putting  hire 
lings  on  the  brakes,  men  who  did  not  belong  to  the  Monu 
mental  organization  at  all.  If  it  had  not  been  for  that  the 
Monumentals  could  never  have  "sucked"  at  all.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  Monumentals  and  their  friends  were  vehemently  as 
serting  that  they  were  well  within  their  rights.  Fists  were 
brandished.  Several  rights  started,  but  were  stopped  before 
they  had  become  serious. 

Keith  avoided  these  storm  centres,  waving  a  friendly  hand, 
but  smilingly  refusing  to  be  drawn  in.  Near  the  Merchants' 
Exchange,  however,  he  came  on  a  quieter,  attentive  group,  in  the 
centre  of  which  stood  Calhoun  Bennett.  The  Southerner's  head 
was  thrown  back  haughtily,  but  he  was  listening  with  entire 
courtesy  to  a  violent  harangue  from  a  burly,  red-faced  man  in 
rough  clothes. 

"And  I  tell  you  that  sort  of  a  trick  won't  go  down  with  nobody, 
and  the  story  of  why  you  were  washed  won't  wash  itself.  It's 
too  thin." 

"I  have  the  honah,  suh,"  said  Bennett  formally,  "to  info'm 
yo^  that  yo'  do  not  know  what  yo'  are  talkin'  about." 

His  silken  tones  apparently  enraged  the  man. 

"  You  silk-stockinged  —  —  of  a ! "  said  he. 

Without  haste  Calhoun  Bennett  rapped  the  man  across  the 
face  with  his  light  rattan  cane.  Venting  a  howl  of  rage,  the 
Eureka  partisan  leaped  forward.  Calhoun  Bennett,  quick  as  a 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  103 

flash,  drew  a  small  derringer  and  fired;  and  the  man  went  down 
in  a  heap.  Superbly  nonchalant,  Bennett,  without  a  glance  at 
his  victim,  turned  away,  the  ring  of  spectators  parting  to  let  him 
through.  He  saw  Keith,  and  at  once  joined  him,  drawing  the 
young  man's  arm  through  his  own.  Keith,  looking  back,  saw 
the  man  already  sitting  up,  feeling  his  shoulder  and  cursing 
vigorously. 

Bennett  was  fairly  radiating  rage,  which,  however,  he  managed 
to  suppress  beneath  a  well-bred  exterior  calm. 

"These  hounds,  suh,"  he  told  Keith,  "profess  not  to  believe 
us,  suh!  They  profess,  suh,  that  our  explanation  of  how  we 
were  washed  is  a  fabrication.  You  will  oblige  me,  suh,  by 
profferin'  yo'  personal  testimony  in  the  case." 

He  faced  Keith  resolutely  toward  the  Eureka  engine  house. 
Keith  spared  a  thought  to  wonder  what  he  was  being  let  in  for  by 
this  handsome  young  fire-eater,  but  he  went  along  unprotesting. 

Around  the  Eureka  engine  house  was  a  big  crowd  of  men. 
These  fell  silent  as  Bennett  and  Keith  approached.  The 
Eurekas  represented  quite  a  different  social  order  from  tne 
Monumentals.  Its  membership  was  recruited  from  those  who 
in  the  East  had  been  small  farmers,  artisans,  or  workingmen  in 
the  more  skilled  trades;  independent,  plain,  rather  rough, 
thoroughly  democratic,  a  trifle  contemptuous  of  "  silk  stockings, " 
outspoken,  with  little  heed  for  niceties  of  etiquette  or  conduct. 
Bennett  pushed  his  way  through  them  to  where  stood  Carter,  the 
chief,  and  several  of  the  more  influential.  Keith,  looking  at 
them,  met  their  eyes  directed  squarely  into  his.  They  were 
steady,  clear-looking,  solid,  rather  coarse-grained,  grave  men. 

"I  have  brought  Mr.  Keith  here,  who  was  an  eyewitness,  to- 
give  his  testimony  as  to  the  events  of  last  evenin',"  said  Bennett 
formally. 

Keith  told  his  story.  It  was  received  in  a  blank  noncom 
mittal  silence.  The  men  aD  looked  at  him  steadily,  and  said 
nothing.  Somehow,  he  was  impressed.  This  silence  seemed 
to  him,  fancifully,  more  than  mere  lack  of  words — it  con 
veyed  a  sense  of  reserve  force,  of  quiet  appraisal  of  himself 


104  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

and  his  words,  of  the  experiences  of  men  who  have  been  close  to 
realities,  who  have  done  things  in  the  world.  Keith  felt  himself 
to  be  better  educated,  to  own  a  better  brain,  to  have  a  wider  out 
look,  to  be  possessed,  in  short,  of  all  the  advantages  of  superiority. 
He  had  never  mingled  with  rough  men,  and  he  had  always  looked 
down  on  them.  In  this  attitude  was  no  condescension  and  no 
priggishness.  Now  he  felt,  somehow,  that  the  best  of  these  men 
had  something  that  he  had  not  suspected,  some  force  of  character 
that  raised  them  above  his  previous  conception.  They  might  be 
more  than  mere  "filling"  in  a  city's  population;  they  might  well 
come  to  be  an  element  to  be  reckoned  with. 

When  he  had  quite  finished  his  story,  there  ensued  a  slight 
pause.  Then  said  Carter: 

"We  believe  Mr.  Keith.  If  Mr.  Ward  and  Frank  Munro 
were  there,  of  course  there  can  be  no  doubt."  Somehow  Keith 
could  not  resent  the  implication;  it  was  too  impersonally  de 
livered.  Carter  went  on  with  cold  formality  and  emphasis: 
"  Mr.  Keith  had  a  very  narrow  escape.  It  was  lucky  for  him  that 
your  hired  men  had  'sucked'  your  waterbox.  In  view  of  that 
we  can,  of  course,  no  longer  regret  the  fact." 

"  It  was  a  dirty  trick  just  the  same ! "  growled  a  voice  out  of  the 
crowd. 

Carter  turned  a  deliberate  look  in  that  direction,  and  noth 
ing  more  was  said.  Bennett  ignored  the  interruption,  bowed 
frigidly,  and  turned  away.  The  Eureka  leaders  nodded.  In 
dead  silence  Keith  and  Bennett  withdrew. 

"That  settles  that!"  observed  Bennett,  when  at  a  little  dis 
tance.  "A  lot  of  cheap  shopkeepers!  It  makes  me  disgusted 
every  time  I  have  anythin'  to  do  with  them!" 

As  they  walked  away,  one  of  the  hangers-on  of  the  police  court 
approached,  touching  his  hat. 

"For  you,  Mr.  Bennett,"  he  said  most  respectfully,  proffering 
a  paper. 

"Me? "  observed  Bennett,  surprised.  He  unfolded  the  paper, 
glanced  at  it,  and  laughed.  "I'm  arrested  for  wingin'  that 
'shoulder-striker'  up  the  street  a  while  back,"  he  told  Keith. 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  105 

"Anything  I  can  do?"  asked  Keith  anxiously. 

"  Not  a  thing,  thank  you.  There'll  be  no  trouble  at  all — just  a 
little  nuisance.  May  call  you  for  a  witness  later." 

He  went  away  with  the  officer,  but  shortly  after  Keith  saw  him 
on  the  street  again.  The  matter  had  been  easily  arranged. 

Keith  went  to  his  office.  In  spite  of  himself  he  could  not 
entirely  take  Bennett's  point  of  view.  Several  of  the  men  at 
Eureka  headquarters  looked  interesting — he  would  like  to  know 
them — perhaps  more  than  interesting,  the  potentiality  of  a 
reasoning  and  directed  power. 


XVII 

THE  afternoon  nap  suggested  by  Mrs.  Morrell  was  not 
enjoyed,  and  Keith  returned  home  feeling  pretty  tired 
and  inclined  to  a  quiet  evening.     Nan  had  to  remind 
him  of  his  engagement. 

"Oh,  let's  send  a  note  over  by  Wing,"  he  said,  a  little  crossly. 
"I  don't  feel  like  making  an  effort  to-night." 

But  Nan's  convention  could  not  approve  of  anything  quite  so 
radically  a  last-minute  decision. 

"  It's  a  little  late  in  the  day  for  that,"  she  pointed  out.  "  She 
may  have  stayed  in  just  to  see  us.  We  can  leave  early." 

Keith  went,  grumbling.  They  found  Mrs.  Morrell  in  full 
evening  dress,  showing  her  neck  and  shoulders,  which  were  her 
best  points,  for  she  was  full  bosomed  and  rounded  without  losing 
firmness  of  flesh.  Nan  was  a  trifle  taken  back  at  this  gorgeous- 
ness,  for  she  had  not  dressed.  Keith,  with  his  usual  directness, 
made  no  secret  of  pretending  to  be  utterly  overwhelmed. 

"I  didn't  know  we  were  expected  to  dress  for  a  real  concert 
with  flowers!"  he  cried,  laughing. 

Mrs.  Morrell  shrugged  her  fine  shoulders  indifferently. 

"This  old  rag!"  she  said.  "Don't  let  that  bother  you.  I 
always  like  to  put  on  something  cool  for  the  evening.  It's  such  a 
relief." 

It  developed  that  Morrell  had  an  engagement,  and  could  not 
stay. 

"He  was  so  disappointed,"  purred  Mrs.  Morrell. 

She  was  all  eager  for  the  music,  brushing  aside  this  and  other 
preliminaries. 

"  You  play,  sing?  "  she  asked  Nan.  "  What  a  pity !  I'm  afraid 
you're  going  to  be  terribly  bored." 

1 06 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  107 

She  turned  instantly  to  Keith,  hurrying  him  to  the  piano, 
giving  the  impression  of  being  too  eager  to  wait — almost  the 
eagerness  of  a  drunkard  in  the  presence  of  drink.  And  this  in 
turn  conveyed  a  vibrating  feeling  of  magnetism,  of  tempera 
ment  under  restraint,  of  possibilities  veiled.  The  impact  struck 
Keith's  responsive  nature  full.  He  waked  up,  approached  the 
piano  with  reviving  interest.  She  struck  idle  chords  and  flashed 
at  him  over  her  shoulder  a  brilliant  smile. 

"What  shall  it  be?"  she  demanded,  still  with  the  undercurrent 
of  eagerness.  "You  choose — a  man's  song — something  soulful. 
I'm  just  in  the  mood." 

"Do  you  know  the  'Bedouin  Love  Song? ' "  he  inquired. 

"  The  'Bedouin  Love  Song? '  No — I'm  afraid  not.  We  are  so 
far  out  of  the  world." 

"  It's  a  new  thing.    It  goes  like  this." 

He  hummed  the  air,  and  she  followed  it  hesitatingly,  feeling 
out  the  accompaniment.  Mrs.  Morrell  knew  her  instrument  and 
had  a  quick  ear.  Occasionally  Keith  leaned  over  her  shoulder  to 
strike  for  her  an  elusive  chord  or  modulation.  In  so  doing  he  had 
to  press  close,  and  for  all  his  honest  absorption  in  the  matter  at 
hand,  could  not  help  becoming  aware  of  her  subtle  perfume,  the 
shine  of  her  flesh,  and  the  brightness  of  her  crown  of  hair. 

"You  play  it,"  she  said  suddenly. 

But  he  disclaimed  the  ability. 

"I  don't  know  it  any  better  than  you  do,  and  you  improvise 
wonderfully." 

They  became  entirely  absorbed  in  this  most  fascinating  of  tasks, 
the  working  out  little  by  little  of  a  complicated  accompaniment. 

"  There ! "  she  cried  gayly  at  last.  "  I  believe  I  have  it.  Let's 
try." 

Keith  had  a  strong  smooth  baritone,  not  too  well  trained,  but 
free  from  glaring  faults  and  mannerisms.  It  filled  the  little 
drawing-room  ringingly.  He  liked  the  song,  and  he  sang  it  with 
fire  and  a  certain  defiance  that  suited  it.  At  its  conclusion  Mrs. 
Morrell  sprang  to  her  feet,  breathing  quickly,  her  usual  hard, 
quick  artificiality  of  manner  quite  melted, 


io8  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

"  It's  wonderful ! "  she  cried.  "  It  lifts  one  right  up !  It  makes 

me  feel  I'd  run  away "  She  checked  herself  abruptly,  and 

turned  to  where  Nan  sat  in  an  armchair  outside  the  circle  of  light. 
" Don't  you  just  adore  it?"  she  asked  in  a  more  restrained 
manner,  and  turned  back  to  Keith,  who  was  standing  a  little 
flushed  and  excited  by  the  song.  "  You  have  just  the  voice  for  it 
— with  that  vibrating  deep  quality."  She  reseated  herself  at  the 
piano  and  struck  several  loud  chords.  Under  cover  of  them  she 
added,  half  under  her  breath,  as  though  to  herself,  but  distinctly 
audible  to  the  man  at  her  shoulder:  "Luck  for  us  all  that  you 
are  already  taken." 

Keith  would  have  been  no  more  than  human  if  he  had  not 
followed  this  cue  with  a  look.  She  did  not  lower  her  eyes,  but 
gave  him  back  his  gaze  directly.  It  was  as  though  some  secret 
understanding  sprang  up  between  them,  though  Keith,  in  half- 
angry  confusion,  could  not  have  analyzed  it. 

After  this  they  compared  notes  until  they  found  several  songs 
they  both  knew.  Mrs.  Morrell  brushed  aside  Keith's  suggestion 
that  she  herself  should  sing,  but  she  did  it  in  a  way  that  left  the 
implication  that  he  was  the  important  one  vocally. 

"No,  no!  I've  been  starved  too  long.  I'm  as  tired  of  my 
little  reed  of  a  voice  as  of  the  tinkle  of  a  musical  box." 

The  close  of  the  evening  was  brought  about  only  by  the  return 
of  Morrell  from  his  engagement.  Keith  had  utterly  forgotten 
his  fatigue,  and  was  tingling  with  the  enthusiasm  to  which  his 
nature  always  rose  under  stimulus.  The  Englishman,  very  self- 
contained,  clean-cut,  incisive,  brought  a  new  atmosphere.  He 
was  cordial  and  polite,  but  not  expansive.  Keith  came  down 
from  the  clouds.  He  remembered,  with  compunction,  Nan  sit 
ting  in  the  armchair,  the  lateness  of  the  hour,  his  own  fatigue. 

"You  should  hear  Mr.  Keith's  new  song,  Charley,"  said  Mrs. 
Morrell.  "It's  the  most  wonderful  thing!  The  'Bedouin  Love 
Song.'  You  must  surely  sing  it  at  the  Firemen's  Ball.  It  will 
make  a  great  hit.  No,  you  surely  must.  With  a  voice  like 
yours  it  is  selfish  not  to  use  it  for  the  benefit  of  all.  Don't  you 
agree  with  me,  Mrs.  Keith?" 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  109 

*F11  sing  it,  if  you  will  play  my  accompaniment,"  said  Keith. 

On  their  way  home  Keith's  enthusiasm  bubbled  up  again. 

" Isn't  it  great  luck  to  find  somebody  to  practise  with?"  he 
cried.  "  Unexpected  luck  in  a  place  like  this !  I  wish  you  cared 
for  music." 

"Oh,  I  do,"  said  Nan.  "I  love  it.  But  I  just  can't  do  it,  that's 
all." 

"Did  you  like  it  to-night?" 

"I  liked  it  when  you  really  sang"  replied  Nan  with  a  little 
yawn,  "but  it  always  took  you  such  a  time  to  get  at  it." 

A  short  silence  fell. 

"Are  you  really  going  to  sing  at  the  Firemen's  Ball?  "  she  asked 
curiously. 

"I  haven't  been  asked  yet,"  he  reminded  her.  "Don't  you 
think  it  a  good  idea?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  said  Nan,  but  her  voice  had  a  little  edge. 
Keith  felt  it,  and  made  the  usual  masculine  blunder.  He 
stopped  short,  thunderstruck  at  a  new  idea. 

"Why,  Nan,"  he  cried  reproachfully,  "I  don't  believe  you  like 
her!" 

"Like  her!"  she  flashed  back,  her  anger  leaping  to  unreason 
able  proportions — "  that  old  frump! " 

No  sooner  had  the  door  closed  after  them  than  Morrell's  con 
ventional  smile  faded,  and  his  countenance  fell  into  its  usual 
hard,  cold  impassivity. 

"Well,  what  is  the  game  there?"  he  demanded. 

"There  is  no  game,"  she  replied  indifferently. 

"There  is  very  little  money  there,  I  warn  you,"  he  persisted. 

She  turned  on  him  with  sudden  fury. 

"  Oh,  shut  up  I"  she  cried.     "I  know  my  own  business ! " 

"  And  I  know  mine,"  he  told  her,  slowly  and  dangerously.  "  And 
I  warn  you  to  go  slow  unless  I  give  the  word." 

She  stared  at  him  a  moment,  and  he  stared  back.  Then,  quite 
deliberately,  she  walked  over  to  him  until  her  breast  almost 
touched  him.  Her  eyes  were  half  closed,  and  a  little  smile 
parted  her  full  lips. 


no  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

"Charley/*  she  drawled  wickedly,  "I  warn  you  to  go  slow. 
And  I  warn  you  not  to  interfere  with  me — or  I  might  interfere 
with  you!" 

Morrell  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  turned  away  with  an 
assumption  of  indifference. 

" Please  yourself.    But  I  can't  afford  a  scandal  just  now." 

"  You  can't  afford  a  scandal!"  she  cried,  and  laughed  hardly. 

"Not  just  now,"  he  repeated. 


XVIII 

PERHAPS  this  unwise  antagonizing  by  her  husband,  per 
haps  the  idleness  with  which  the  well-to-do  woman  was 
afflicted,  perhaps  a  genuine  liking  for  Keith,  gave  Mrs. 
Morrell  just  the  impulse  needed.  At  any  rate,  she  used  the 
common  bond  of  music  to  bring  him  much  into  her  company. 
This  was  not  a  difficult  matter.  Keith  was  extravagantly  fond 
of  just  this  sort  of  experimental  amateur  excursions  into  lighter 
music,  and  he  liked  Mrs.  Morrell.  She  was  a  good  sort,  straight 
forward  and  honest  and  direct,  no  nonsense  in  her,  but  she  knew 
her  way  about,  and  a  man  could  have  a  sort  of  pleasing,  harmless 
flirtation  to  which  she  knew  how  to  play  up.  There  was  not,  nor 
could  there  be — inKeith's  mind — anyharm  in  their  relations.  Nan 
was  the  woman  for  him ;  but  that  didn't  mean  that  he  was  never  to 
see  anybody  else,  or  that  other  women  might  not — of  course  in 
unessential  and  superficial  ways — answer  some  of  his  varied  needs. 
Mrs.  Morrell  was  skilful  at  keeping  up  his  interest,  and  she 
was  equally  skilful  in  gradually  excluding  Nan.  This  was  not 
difficult,  for  Nan  was  secretly  bored  by  the  eternal  practising, 
and  repelled  by  Mrs.  MorrelPs  efforts  to  be  fascinating.  She 
saw  them  plainly  enough,  but  was  at  first  merely  amused  and 
faintly  disgusted,  for  she  was  proud  enough  to  believe  absolutely 
that  such  crude  methods  could  have  no  effect  on  Milton,  over 
looking  the  fact  that  the  crudities  of  women  never  appear  as 
plainly  to  a  man  as  they  do  to  another  woman.  For  a  woman 
is  in  the  know.  At  first  she  offered  one  excuse  or  another,  in 
an  attempt  to  be  both  polite  and  plausible.  She  much  pre 
ferred  a  book  at  home,  or  a  whole  free  evening  to  work  at  making 
her  house  attractive.  Later,  Keith  got  into  the  habit  of  taking 
her  attitude  for  granted. 

in 


,112  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

"I  promised  to  run  over  to  the  Morrells'  this  evening,"  he 
would  say.  "More  music.  Of  course  you  won't  care  to  come. 
,You  won't  be  lonely?  I  won't  be  gone  late." 

"Of  course  not,"  she  laughed.  "I'm  thankful  for  the  chance 
to  get  through  with  the  blue  room." 

Nevertheless,  after  a  time  she  began  to  experience  a  faint, 
unreasonable  resentment;  and  Keith  an  equally  faint,  equally 
unreasonable  feeling  of  guilt. 

Left  to  itself  this  situation  would,  therefore,  have  righted  it 
self,  but  Mrs.  Morrell  was  keen  enough  to  give  it  the  required 
directing  touches: 

"Too  bad  we  can't  tear  your  wife  away  from  her  house  and 
garden." 

"If  you  only  had  some  one  to  practise  with  regularly  at  home! 
Your  voice  ought  to  be  systematically  cultivated.  It  is  won 
derful!" 

And  later: 

"You  ought  not  to  come  here  so  much,  I  suppose " 

rather  doubtfully.  "Any  sort  of  practice  and  accompaniment 
— even  my  poor  efforts — does  you  so  much  good!  You  or  I 
would  understand  perfectly;  but  it  is  sometimes  so  difficult  for  the 
inexperienced  domestic  type  to  comprehend !  An  older  woman  who 
understands  men  knows — but  come,  we  must  sing  that  once  more." 

The  effect  of  ttese  and  a  thousand  similar  speeches  injected 
apparently  at  random  here  and  there  in  the  tide  of  other  things 
was  at  once  to  intensify  Keith's  vague  feeling  of  guilt,  and  to 
put  it  in  the  light  somehow  of  an  injustice  to  himself.  He  had 
an  unformulated  notion  that  if  Nan  would  or  could  only  under 
stand  the  situation  and  be  a  good  fellow  that  every  one  would 
be  happy;  but  as  she  was  a  mere  woman,  with  a  woman's  prej 
udices,  this  was  impossible.  It  was  absurd  to  expect  him  to 
give  up  his  music  just  because  she  wanted  to  be  different !  He 
had  really  nothing  whatever  to  conceal;  and  yet  it  actually  seemed 
that  difficulty  and  concealment  would  be  necessary  if  this  sort 
of  unspoken  reproach  were  kept  up.  Women  were  so  con 
foundedly  single-minded! 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  113 

And  as  the  normal,  healthy,  non-introspective  male  tends 
to  avoid  discomfort,  even  of  his  own  making,  it  thus  came  about 
that  Keith  spent  less  and  less  time  at  home.  He  did  not 
explain  to  himself  why.  It  was  certainly  no  lessening  of  his  affec 
tion  for  Nan.  Only  he  felt  absolutely  sure  of  her,  and  the  men 
tal  situation  sketched  above  left  him  more  open  to  the  lure  of 
downtown,  which  to  any  live  man  was  in  those  days  especially 
great.  Every  evening  the  "fellows"  got  together,  jawed  things 
over,  played  pool,  had  a  drink  or  so,  wandered  from  one  place 
to  another,  looked  with  the  vivid  interest  of  the  young  and 
able-bodied  on  the  seething,  colourful,  vital  lif e  of  the  new  com 
munity.  It  was  all  harmless  and  mighty  pleasant.  Keith 
argued  that  he  was  "establishing  connections"  and  meeting 
men  who  could  do  his  profession  good,  which  was  more  or  less 
true;  but  it  took  him  from  home  evenings. 

Nan,  at  first,  quite  innocently  played  into  his  hands.  She 
really  preferred  to  stay  at  home  rather  than  be  bored  at  the 
MorrehV.  Later,  when  this  tradition  had  been  established, 
she  began  to  be  disturbed,  not  by  any  suspicion  that  Milton's 
interest  was  straying,  but  by  a  feeling  of  neglect.  She  was  hurt. 
And  little  by  little,  in  spite  of  herself,  a  jealousy  of  the  woman 
next  door  began  to  tinge  her  solitude.  Her  nature  was  too 
noble  and  generous  to  harbour  such  a  sentiment  without  a 
struggle.  She  blamed  herself  for  unworthy  and  wretched  jeal 
ousy,  and  yet  she  could  not  help  herself.  Often,  especially  at 
first,  Keith  in  an  impulse  would  throw  over  his  plans,  and  ask 
her  to  go  to  the  theatre  or  a  concert,  of  which  there  were  many 
and  excellent.  She  generally  declined,  not  because  she  did  not 
want  to  go,  but  because  of  that  impelling  desire,  universal  in 
the  feminine  soul,  to  be  a  little  wooed  to  it,  to  be  compelled  by 
gentle  persuasion  that  should  at  once  make  up  for  the  past  and 
be  an  earnest  for  the  future.  Only  Keith  took  her  refusal  at 
its  face  value.  Nan  was  lonely  and  hurt. 

Her  refusals  to  respond  to  his  rather  spasmodic  attempts 
to  be  nice  to  her  were  adopted  by  Keith's  subconscious  needs 
for  comfort.  If  she  didn't  want  to  see  anything  of  life,  she 


i  H  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

shouldn't  expect  him  to  bury  himself.  His  restless  mind 
gradually  adopted  the  fiction  persistently  held  before  him  by 
Mrs.  Morrell  that  his  wife  was  indeed  a  domestic  little  body, 
fond  only  of  her  home  and  garden.  As  soon  as  he  had  hypno 
tized  himself  into  the  full  acceptance  of  this,  he  felt  much  hap 
pier,  his  uneasiness  fell  from  him,  and  he  continued  life  with 
zest.  If  any  one  had  told  him  that  he  was  neglecting  Nan,  he 
probably  would  have  been  surprised.  They  were  busy;  they 
met  amicably;  there  were  no  reproaches;  they  managed  to  get 
about  and  enjoy  things  together  quite  a  lot. 

The  basis  for  the  latter  illusion  rested  on  the  Sunday  excur 
sions  and  picnics.  Both  the  Keiths  always  attended  them. 
There  was  invariably  the  same  crowd — the  Morrells;  Dick  Blatch- 
ford,  the  contractor,  and  his  fat,  coarse-grained,  good-natured 
Irish  wife;  Calhoun  Bennett;  Ben  Sansome;  Sally  Warner,  a  dash 
ing  grass  widow,  whose  unknown  elderly  husband  seemed  to  be 
always  away  "at  the  mines";  Teeny  McFarlane,  small,  dainty, 
precise,  blond,  exquisite,  cool,  with  very  self-possessed  man 
ners  and  decided  ways,  but  with  the  capacity  for  occasionally 
and  with  deliberation  outdoing  the  worst  of  them,  about  whom 
were  whispered  furtive  things  the  rumour  of  which  died  before 
her  armoured  front;  her  husband,  a  fat,  jolly,  round-faced,  some 
what  pop-eyed  man  who  adored  her  and  was  absolutely  ignorant 
of  one  side  of  her.  These  and  a  sprinkling  of  "  fast "  youths  made 
the  party.  Sometimes  the  celebrated  Sam  Brannan  went  along, 
loud,  coarse,  shrewd,  bull  voiced,  kindly  when  not  crossed,  un 
scrupulous,  dictatorial,  and  overbearing.  They  all  got  to  know 
each  other  very  well  and  to  be  very  free  in  one  another's  society. 

The  usual  procedure  was  to  drive  in  buggies,  sometimes  to 
the  beach,  sometimes  down  the  peninsula,  starting  rather  early, 
and  staying  out  all  day.  Occasionally  rather  elaborate  lunches 
were  brought,  with  servants  to  spread  them;  but  the  usual  cus 
tom  was  to  stop  at  one  of  the  numerous  road  houses.  No  man 
drove,  walked,  or  talked  with  his  own  wife;  nevertheless, 
these  affairs  though  rowdy,  noisy,  and  "fast"  enough,  were  es 
sentially  harmless.  The  respectable  members  of  the  community 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  115 

were  sufficiently  shocked,  however.  Gay  dresses,  gay  laughter, 
gay  behaviour,  gay  scorn  of  convention,  above  all,  the  resort 
to  the  mysterious  naughty  road  houses  were  enough.  It  must 
be  confessed  that  at  times  things  seemed  to  go  a  bit  far;  but 
Nan,  who  was  at  first  bewildered  and  shocked,  noticed  that  the 
women  did  many  things  in  public  and  nothing  in  private.  As 
already  her  mind  and  tolerance  were  adapting  themselves  to 
new  things,  she  was  able  to  accept  it  all  philosophically  as 
part  of  a  new  phase  of  life. 

These  people  had  no  misgivings  about  themselves,  and  they 
passed  judgment  on  others  with  entire  assurance.  In  their 
slang,  all  with  whom  they  came  into  contact  were  either 
"hearses"  or  "live  Molh'es."  There  was  nothing  racial,  local, 
or  social  in  this  division.  A  family  might  be  divided,  one  mem 
ber  being  a  live  Molly,  and  all  the  rest  the  most  dismal  of  hearses. 
Occasionally  a  stranger  might  be  brought  along.  He  did  not 
know  it,  but  always  he  was  very  carefully  watched  and 
appraised:  his  status  discussed  and  decided  at  the  supper 
to  which  the  same  people — minus  all  strangers — gathered  later. 
At  one  of  these  discussions  a  third  estate  came  into  being. 

Teeny  McFarlane  had  that  day  brought  with  her  a  young 
man  of  about  twenty-four  or  twenty-five,  well  dressed,  of  pleas 
ant  features,  agreeable  in  manner,  well  spoken,  but  quiet. 

"He  isn't  a  live  Molly, "  stated  Sally  positively. 

"Well,  Sally  took  a  walk  with  him,"  observed  Sam  Brannan 
dryly;  "she  ought  to  know!" 

"Don't  need  to  take  a  walk  with  him/'  countered  Sally; 
"just  take  a  talk  with  him — or  try  to." 

"I  did  try  to,"  interpolated  Mrs.  Morrell. 

"May  as  well  make  it  unanimous,  looks  like,"  said  Sam. 
"He  goes  for  a  hearse." 

But  Teeny  McFarlane  interposed  in  her  positive,  precise 
little  way. 

"I  object,"  she  drawled.  "He  certainly  isn't  as  bad  as  all 
that.  He's  a  nice  boy,  and  he  never  bored  anybody  in  his 
life.  Did  he  bore  you,  Sally?" 


ii6  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

"I  can't  say  he  did,  now  you  mention  it.  He's  one  of  those 
nice  doggy  people  you  don't  mind  having  around." 

They  discussed  the  matter  animatedly.  Teeny  McFarlane 
developed  an  unexpected  obstinacy.  She  did  not  suggest  that 
the  young  man  was  to  be  included  in  any  of  the  future  parties; 
indeed,  she  answered  the  direct  question  decidedly  in  the  nega 
tive;  no,  there  was  no  use  trying  to  include  anybody  unless  they 
decidedly  "belonged." 

"You  wouldn't  call  him  a  live  Molly,  now  would  you,  Teeny?  " 
implored  Cal  Bennett. 

"No,"  she  answered  slowly,  "I  suppose  not.  But  he  is 
not  a  hearse." 

The  men,  all  but  Popsy  McFarlane,  were  inspecting  Teeny's 
cool,  unrevealing  exterior  with  covert  curiosity.  She  was  al 
ways  an  enigma  to  them.  Each  man  was  asking  himself  why 
her  interest  in  the  mere  labelling  of  this  stranger. 

"He  isn't  a  live  Molly  and  she  objects  to  his  being  a  hearse," 
laughed  Sally.  "He  must  be  something  between  them.  What," 
she  inquired,  with  the  air  of  propounding  a  conundrum,  "is 
between  a  live  Molly  and  a  hearse?" 

"Give  it  up!"  they  cried  unanimously. 

Sally  looked  nonplussed,  then  shrieked:  "Why,  the  pall 
bearers,  of  course!" 

The  silly  phrase  caught.  Thereafter,  those  who  were  ac 
knowledged  to  be  all  right  enough  but  not  of  their  feather  were 
known  as  "pallbearers." 

The  Keiths  were  live  Mollies.  He  was  decidedly  one.  His 
appearance  alone  inspired  good  nature  and  high  spirits,  he 
looked  so  clean,  vividly  coloured,  enthusiastic,  ah've  to  his  finger 
tips.  He  was  always  game  for  anything,  no  matter  how  ridic 
ulous  it  made  him,  or  in  what  sort  of  a  so-called  false  position 
it  might  place  him.  When  he  had  reached  a  certain  state  of 
dancing-eyed  joyous  recklessness,  Nan  was  always  athrill  as 
to  what  he  might  do  next.  And  Nan,  spite  of  her  quieter 
ways  and  the  reserves  imposed  on  her  by  her  breeding,  was 
altogether  too  pretty  and  too  much  of  a.  real  person  ever 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  117 

to  be  classed  as  a  hearse.  With  her  ravishing  Eastern  toilettes, 
her  clear,  creamy  complexion,  and  the  clean-cut  lines  of  her 
throat,  chin,  and  cheeks,  she  always  made  the  other  women  look 
a  little  too  vividly  accented.  The  men  all  admired  her  on  sight, 
and  at  first  did  their  best  to  interest  her.  They  succeeded,  for 
in  general  they  were  of  vital  stuff,  but  not  in  the  ultimately 
personal  way  they  desired.  Her  nature  found  no  thrill  in 
experiment.  One  by  one  they  gave  her  up  in  the  favour  of  less 
attractive  but  livelier  or  more  complaisant  companions;  but 
they  continued  to  like  her  and  to  pay  her  much  general  atten 
tion.  She  never,  in  any  nuance  of  manner,  even  tried  to  make  a 
difference;  nevertheless,  their  attitude  toward  her  was  always 
more  deferential  than  to  the  other  women. 

Ben  Sansome  was  the  one  exception  to  the  first  part  of  the 
above  statement.  Her  gentle  but  obvious  withdrawals  from 
his  advances  piqued  his  conceit.  Ben  was  a  spoiled  youth, 
with  plenty  of  money;  and  he  had  always  been  a  spoiled  youth, 
with  plenty  of  money.  Why  he  had  come  to  San  Francisco 
no  one  knew.  Possibly  he  did  not  know  himself;  for  as  his 
affairs  had  always  been  idle,  he  had  drifted  much,  and  might 
have  drifted  here.  Whatever  the  reason,  the  fact  remained 
that  in  this  busy,  new,  and  ambitious  community  he  was  the 
one  example  professionally  of  the  gilded  youth.  His  waist 
coats,  gloves,  varnished  boots,  jewellery,  handkerchiefs  were 
always  patterns  to  the  other  amateur,  gilded  youths  who  had 
also  other  things  to  do.  His  social  tact  was  enormous,  and  a 
recognized  institution.  If  there  had  been  cotillons,  he  would 
have  led  them;  but  as  there  were  no  cotillons,  he  contented  him 
self  with  being  an  arbiter  elegantiarum.  He  rather  prided  him 
self  on  his  knowledge  of  such  things  as  jades,  old  prints,  and 
obscure  poets  of  whom  nobody  else  had  ever  heard.  Naturally 
he  had  always  been  a  great  success  with  women,  both  as  harm 
less  parlour  ornaments,  and  in  more  dangerous  ways.  In  San 
Francisco  he  had  probably  carried  farther  than  he  would  have 
carried  anywhere  else.  He  had  sustained  no  serious  reverses, 
because  difficult  game  had  not  heretofore  interested  him.  Enter.- 


ii8  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

ing  half  interestedly  with  Nan  into  what  he  vaguely  intended 
as  one  of  his  numerous,  harmless,  artistic,  perfumed  flirtation- 
lets,  he  had  found  himself  unexpectedly  held  at  arm's  length. 
Just  this  was  needed  to  fillip  his  fancy.  He  went  into  the 
game  as  a  game.  Sansome  made  himself  useful.  By  dint  of 
being  on  hand  whenever  Keith's  carelessness  had  left  her  in  need 
of  an  escort,  and  only  then,  he  managed  to  establish  himself  on 
a  recognized  footing  as  a  sort  of  privileged,  charming,  useful, 
harmless  family  friend. 

Outside  this  small,  rather  lively  coterie  the  Keiths  had  very 
few  friends.  It  must  be  confessed  that  the  mothers  of  the 
future  leaders  of  San  Francisco  society,  and  the  bearers  of  what 
were  to  be  her  proudest  names,  were  mostly  "hearses."  Their 
husbands  were  the  forceful,  able  men  of  the  city,  but  they 
themselves  were  conventional  as  only  conventional  women 
can  be  when  goaded  into  it  by  a  general  free-and-easy,  uncon 
ventional  atmosphere.  That  was  their  only  method  of  show 
ing  disapproval.  The  effect  was  worthy  but  dull.  It  was  a 
pity,  for  among  them  were  many  intelligent,  charming  women 
who  needed  only  a  different  atmosphere  to  expand.  The  Keiths 
never  saw  them,  and  gained  their  ideas  of  them  only  from  the 
merciless  raillery  of  the  "live  Mollies." 

All  this  implied  more  or  less  entertaining,  and  entertaining 
was  expensive.  The  Boyle  house  was  expensive  for  that  mat 
ter;  and  about  everything  else,  save  Chinese  servants,  and,  tem 
porarily,  whatever  the  latest  clipper  ship  had  glutted  the  market 
with.  Keith  had  brought  with  him  a  fair  sum  of  money  with 
which  to  make  his  start;  but  under  this  constant  drainage,  it 
dwindled  to  what  was  for  those  times  a  comparatively  small 
sum.  Clients  did  not  come.  There  were  more  men  practising 
law  than  all  the  other  professions.  In  spite  of  wide  acquaint 
ance  and  an  attractive  popular  personality,  Keith  had  not  as 
yet  made  a  start.  He  did  not  worry — that  was  not  his  nature — 
but  he  began  to  realize  that  he  must  do  one  of  two  things: 
either  make  some  money,  somehow,  or  give  up  his  present  mocle 
of  living.  The  letter  course  was  unthinkable! 


XIX 

ONE  morning  Keith  was  sitting  in  his  office  cogitating 
these  things.     His  door  opened  and  a  meek,  mild  little 
wisp  of  a  man  sidled  in.    He  held  his  hat  in  his  hand, 
revealing  clearly  sandy  hair  and  a  narrow  forehead.    His  eye 
brows  and  lashes  were  sandy,  his  eyes  pale  blue,  his  mouth  weak 
but  obstinate.    On  invitation  he  seated  himself  on  the  edge  of 
the  chair,  and  laid  his  hat  carefully  beside  him  on  the  floor. 

"I  am  Dr.  Jacob  Jones,"  he  said,  blinking  at  Keith.  "You 
have  heard  of  me?" 

"I  am  afraid  I  have  not,"  said  Keith  pleasantly. 

The  little  man  sighed. 

"I  have  held  the  City  Hospital  contract  for  three  years," 
he  explained,  ''and  they  owe  me  a  lot  of  money.  I  thought  you 
might  collect  some  of  it." 

"I  think  if  you'd  put  in  a  claim  through  the  usual  channels 
you'd  receive  your  dues,"  advised  Keith,  somewhat  puzzled. 
He  had  not  heard  that  the  city  was  refusing  to  pay  legitimate 
claims. 

"I've  done  that,  and  they've  given  me  these,"  said  Doctor 
Jones,  handing  Keith  a  bundle  of  papers. 

Keith  glanced  at  them. 

"This  is  ' scrip,'"  he  said.  "It's  perfectly  good.  When  the 
city  is  without  current  funds  it  issues  this  scrip,  bearing  interest 
at  3  per  cent,  a  month.  It's  all  right." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  said  the  little  man  ineffectually,  "but  I  don't 
want  scrip." 

Keith  ran  it  over.  It  amounted  to  something  like  eleven 
thousand  dollars. 

"What  do  you  want  done  about  it?"  he  asked. 

119 


120  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

"I  want  you  to  collect  the  money  for  me." 

But  Keith  had  recollected  something. 

"Just  wait  a  minute,  please,"  he  begged,  and  darted  across 
the  hall  to  a  friend's  office,  returning  after  a  moment  with  a  file 
of  legislative  reports.  "I  thought  I'd  heard  something  about 
it;  here  it  is.  The  State  Legislature  has  voted  an  issue  of  10 
per  cent,  bonds  to  take  up  the  scrip." 

"I  don't  understand,"  said  Doctor  Jones. 

"Why,  you  take  your  scrip  to  the  proper  official  and  exchange 
it  for  an  equal  value  of  State  bonds." 

"But  what  good  does  that  do  me?"  cried  Jones  excitedly. 
"It  doesn't  get  me  my  money.  They  don't  guarantee  I 
can  sell  the  bonds  at  par,  do  they?  And  answer  me  this: 
isn't  it  just  a  scheme  to  cheat  me  of  my  interest?  As  I  under 
stand  it,  instead  of  3  per  cent,  a  month  I'm  to  get  10  per  cent,  a 
year?" 

"That's  the  effect,"  corroborated  Keith. 

"Well,  I  don't  want  bonds,  I  want  money,  as  is  my  due." 

"Wait  a  minute,"  said  Keith.  He  read  the  report  again 
slowly.  "This  says  that  holders  of  scrip  may  exchange  for 
bonds;  it  does  not  say  they  must  exchange,"  he  said  finally. 
"If  that  interpretation  is  made  of  the  law,  suit  and  judgment 
would  lie  against  the  city.  Do  you  want  to  try  that?" 

"Of  course  I  want  to  try  it!"  cried  Jones. 

"Well,  bring  me  your  contract  and  vouchers,  and  any  other 
papers  to  do  with  the  case,  and  I'll  see  what  can  be  done." 

"I  have  them  right  here,"  said  Doctor  Jones. 

This,  as  Keith's  first  case,  interested  him  more  than  its  in 
trinsic  worth  warranted.  It  amused  him  to  bring  all  his  powers 
to  bear,  fighting  strongly  for  the  technical  point,  and  finally 
establishing  it  in  court.  In  spite  of  the  evident  intention  of 
the  Legislature  that  city  scrip  should  be  retired  in  favour  of 
bonds,  it  was  ruled  that  the  word  may  in  place  of  the  word 
must  practically  nullified  that  intention.  Judgment  was  ob 
tained  against  the  city  for  eleven  thousand  dollars,  and  the 
sheriff  was  formally  instructed  to  sell  certain  water-front  lots 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  121 

in  order  to  satisfy  that  judgment.  The  sale  was  duly  adver 
tised  in  the  papers. 

Next  morning,  after  the  first  insertion  of  this  advertisement, 
Keith  had  three  more  callers.  These  were  men  of  importance: 
namely,  John  Geary,  the  first  postmaster  and  last  alcalde  of  the 
new  city;  William  Hooper,  and  James  King  of  William,  at  that 
time  still  a  banker.  These  were  grave,  solid,  and  weighty 
citizens,  plainly  dressed,  earnest,  and  forceful.  They  responded 
politely  but  formally  to  Keith's  salute,  and  seated  themselves. 

"You  were,  I  understand,  counsel  for  Doctor  Jones  hi  obtaining 
judgment  on  the  hospital  scrip?  "  inquired  Geary. 

"That  is  correct,"  acknowledged  Keith. 

"We  have  called  to  inform  you  of  a  fact  that  perhaps  escaped 
your  notice:  namely,  that  these  gentlemen  and  myself  have  been 
appointed  by  the  Legislature  as  commissioners  to  manage  the 
funded  debt  of  the  city;  that,  for  that  purpose,  title  of  all  city 
lands  has  been  put  in  our  hands." 

"No,  I  did  not  know  that,"  said  Keith. 

"Therefore,  you  see,"  went  on  Geary,  "the  sheriff  cannot  pass 
title  to  any  lots  that  might  be  sold  to  satisfy  Doctor  Jones's 
judgment." 

Keith  pondered,  his  alert  mind  seizing  with  avidity  on  this 
new  and  interesting  situation. 

" No,  I  cannot  quite  see  that,"  he  said  at  last;  "  the  actual  title 
is  in  the  city.  It  owns  its  property.  You  gentlemen  do  not 
claim  to  own  it,  as  individuals.  You  have  delegated  to  you  the 
power  to  pass  title,  just  as  the  sheriff  and  one  or  two  others  have 
that  power;  but  you  have  not  the  sole  power." 

"  We  have  advice  that  title  conveyed  under  this  judgment  will 
be  invalid." 

"That  is  a  matter  for  the  courts  to  settle." 

"The  courts "  began  Hooper  explosively,  but  Geary  over 
rode  him. 

"If  all  tke  creditors  of  the  city  were  to  adopt  the  course 
pursued  by  Doctor  Jones,  the  city  would  soon  be  bankrupt  of 


122  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

"That  is  true,"  agreed  Keith. 

"Then  cannot  I  appeal  to  your  sense  of  civic  patriotism?  " 

"Gentlemen,"  replied  Keith,  "you  seem  to  forget  that  in  this 
matter  I  am  not  acting  for  myself,  but  for  a  client.  If  it  were  my 
affair,  I  might  feel  inclined  to  discuss  the  matter  with  you  more  in 
detail.  But  I  am  only  an  agent." 

"But "  interrupted  Hooper  again. 

"That  is  quite  true,"  interjected  James  King  of  William. 

"Well,  we  shall  see  your  client,"  went  on  Geary.  "But  I 
might  state  that  on  the  side  of  his  own  best  interests  he  would  do 
well  to  go  slow.  There  is  at  least  a  considerable  doubt  as  to  the 
legality  of  this  sale.  It  is  unlikely  that  people  will  care  to  bid." 

After  some  further  polite  conversation  they  took  their  leave. 
Keith  quickly  discovered  that  the  opinion  held  by  the  com 
missioners  was  shared  by  most  of  his  friends.  They  acknowl 
edged  the  brilliance  of  his  legal  victory,  admired  it  heartily,  and 
congratulated  him;  but  they  considered  that  victory  barren. 

"Nobody  will  buy;  you  won't  get  two  bits  a  lot  bid,"  they  all 
told  him. 

Little  Doctor  Jones  came  to  him  much  depressed.  The  com 
missioners  had  talked  with  him. 

"Do  you  want  my  advice?"  asked  Keith.  "Then  do  this: 
stick  to  your  guns." 

But  little  Jones  was  scared. 

"I  want  my  money,"  said  he;  "perhaps  I'd  better  take  those 
bonds  after  all." 

"Look  here,"  suddenly  said  Keith,  who  had  been  making  up 
his  mind.  "I'll  guarantee  you  the  full  amount  in  cash,  within, 
say,  two  weeks,  but  only  on  this  condition:  that  you  go  out  now, 
and  spread  it  about  everywhere  that  you  are  going  to  stand  pftt. 
Tell  'em  all  you  are  going  to  push  through  this  sale." 

"How  do  I  know " 

"Take  a  chance,"  interrupted  Keith.  "If  at  the  end  of  two 
weeks  I  don't  pay  you  cash,  you  can  do  what  you  please.  Call 
off  the  sheriff's  sale  at  the  last  minute;  I'll  pay  the  costs  myself. 
Come,  that's  fair  enough.  You  can't  lose  a  cent," 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  123 

"All  right,"  agreed  Jones  after  a  minute. 

"  Remember:  it's  part  of  the  bargain  that  you  state  everywhere 
that  you're  going  to  force  this  sale,  and  that  you  don't  let  any 
body  bluff  you." 

The  affair  made  quite  a  little  stir.  Men  like  Sam  Brannan, 
Dick  Blatchford,  the  contractor,  and  Jim  Polk  discussed  Keith 
and  his  ability. 

"  Got  a  pretty  wife,  too,"  added  Brannan.  " never  heard 

of  the  fall  of  man." 

"Well,  she's  going  to,  if  the  Morrell  woman  has  her  way," 
observed  Ben  Sansome  dryly. 

Polk  stretched  his  long  legs,  and  smiled  his  desiccated  little 
smile. 

"He's  a  pretty  enterprising  youngster — more  ways  than  one," 
said  he. 


XX 

ON  THE  evening  of  the  third  day  after  his  latest  interview 
with  Doctor  Jones,  Keith  threw  down  his  paper  with  a  cry 
of  triumph.  He  had  been  scanning  the  columns  of  every 
issue  with  minute  care,  combing  even  the  fine  print  for  the 
auctioneer's  advertisements.  Here  was  what  he  wanted:  top  of 
column,  third  page,  where  every  one  would  be  sure  to  see  it.  The 
commissioners  issued  a  signed  statement,  calling  public  attention 
to  the  details  of  their  appointment,  and  warning  that  titles  issued 
under  sheriff's  sale  would  be  considered  invalid. 

Keith  read  this  with  great  attention,  then  drew  his  personal 
check  against  Palmer,  Cook  &  Co.  for  eleven  thousand  dollars  in 
favour  of  Doctor  Jones.  After  some  search  he  unearthed  the  little 
man  in  a  downtown  rookery,  and  from  him  obtained  an  assign 
ment  of  his  judgment  against  the  city.  Doctor  Jones  lost  no  time 
spreading  the  news,  with  the  additional  statement  that  he  con 
sidered  himself  well  out  of  the  mess.  He  proceeded  to  order 
himself  a  long-coveted  microscope,  and  was  thenceforth  lost  to 
sight  among  low-tide  rocks  and  marine  algae.  The  sheriff's  sale 
came  off  at  the  advertised  date.  There  were  no  bidders:  the 
commissioners'  warning  had  had  its  effect.  Keith  himself 
bought  in  the  lots  for  $5,000.  This  check  about  exhausted 
his  resources.  This,  less  costs,  was,  of  course,  paid  back  to  him 
self  as  holder  of  the  judgment.  He  had  title,  such  as  it  was,  for 
about  what  he  had  given  Jones. 

The  bargain  amused  Keith's  acquaintance  hugely.  Whenever 
he  appeared  he  was  deluged  with  chaff,  all  of  which  he  took  good 
naturedly.  He  was  considered,  in  a  moment  of  aberration,  to 
have  bought  an  exceedingly  doubtful  equity.  Some  thought  he 
must  have  a  great  deal  of  money,  arguing  that  only  the  owner  of 

124 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  125 

a  fat  bank  account  could  afford  to  take  such  fliers;  others  con 
sidered  that  he  must  have  very  little  sense.  Keith  was  ap 
parently  unperturbed.  He  at  once  began  to  look  about  him, 
considering  the  next  step  in  his  scheme.  Since  this  investment  had 
taken  nearly  every  cent  he  had  left,  it  was  incumbent  to  raise 
more  money  at  once. 

He  called  on  John  Sherwood  at  the  Empire.  The  gambler 
listened  to  him  attentively. 

"I  can't  go  into  it,"  he  said,  when  Keith  had  finished.  A  slight 
smile  sketched  itself  on  his  strong,  impassive  face.  "Not  that  I 
do  not  believe  it  will  work;  I  think  it  will.  But  I  have  long  made 
it  a  rule  never  to  try  to  make  money  outside  my  own  business — 
which  is  gambling.  I  never  adopt  ordinary  honest  methods." 

Keith's  honest  but  legally  trained  mind  failed  to  notice  the 
quiet  sarcasm  of  this.  "Well,  you  know  everybody  in  town. 
Where  can  I  go?" 

Sherwood  thought  a  moment. 

"I'll  take  you  to  Malcolm  Neil,"  he  said  at  last.  It  was 
Keith's  turn  to  look  thoughtful. 

"  All  right,"  he  said  at  last.  "  But  not  just  right  away.  Give 
me  a  couple  of  days  to  get  ready." 

At  the  appointed  time  Sherwood  escorted  Keith  to  Malcolm 
Neil's  office,  introduced  and  left  him.  Keith  took  the  proffered 
wooden  chair,  examining  his  man  with  the  keenest  attention. 

Malcolm  Neil,  spite  of  his  Scotch  name,  was  a  New  Englander 
by  birth.  He  had  come  out  in  '49,  intending,  like  everybody 
else,  to  go  to  the  mines,  but  had  never  gone  farther  than  San 
Francisco.  The  new  city  offered  ample  scope  for  his  talents,  and 
he  speedily  became,  not  only  rich,  but  a  dominating  personality 
among  financial  circles.  He  accomplished  this  by  supplement 
ing  his  natural  ability  with  absolute  singleness  of  purpose.  It 
was  known  that  his  sole  idea  was  the  making  of  money.  He  was 
reputed  to  be  hard,  devoid  of  sentiment,  unscrupulous.  Natu 
rally  he  enjoyed  no  popularity,  but  a  vast  respect.  More  people 
had  heard  of  him,  or  felt  his  power,  than  had  seen  him;  for  he 
went  little  abroad,  and  preferred  to  work  through  agents.  John 


126  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

Sherwood's  service  in  obtaining  for  Keith  a  personal  interview 
was  a  very  real  one.  Neil's  offices  were  small,  dingy,  and  ill 
lighted,  at  the  back  of  one  of  the  older  and  cheaper  buildings.  In 
the  outer  of  the  two  were  three  bookkeepers;  the  other  contained 
only  a  desk,  two  chairs,  and  an  engraving  of  Daniel  Webster  ad 
dressing  the  Senate. 

The  man  himself  sat  humped  over  slightly,  his  head  thrust  a 
little  forward  as  though  on  the  point  of  launching  a  truculent 
challenge.  He  was  lean,  gray,  with  bushy,  overhanging 
brows,  eyes  with  glinting  metallic  surfaces,  had  long  sinewy 
hands,  and  a  carved  granite  and  inscrutable  face.  His  few  words 
of  greeting  revealed  his  voice  as  harsh,  grating,  and  domineer 
ing. 

Keith,  reading  his  man,  wasted  no  time  in  preliminaries. 

"  Mr.  Neil,"  he  said,  "  I  have  a  scheme  by  which  a  great  deal  of 
money  can  be  made." 

Neil  grunted.  If  it  had  not  been  for  the  fact  that  John  Sher 
wood  had  introduced  the  maker  of  that  speech,  the  interview 
would  have  here  terminated.  Malcolm  Neil  deeply  distrusted 
men  with  schemes  to  make  large  sums  of  money.  After  a  time, 
as  Keith  still  waited,  he  growled: 

"What  is  it?" 

"That,"  said  Keith,  "I  shall  not  disclose  until  my  standing  in 
the  matter  is  assured." 

"What  do  you  want?"  growled  Neil. 

"  Fifty  per  cent,  of  the  profits,  if  you  go  in." 

"What  do  you  want  of  me?" 

"The  capital." 

"What  is  the  scheme?" 

"That  I  cannot  tell  you  without  some  assurance  of  your  good 
intention." 

"What  do  you  expect?"  rasped  Neil,  "that  I  go  into  this 
blind?" 

"I  have  prepared  this  paper,"  said  Keith,  handing  him  a 
document. 

Neil  glanced  over  the  paper,  then  read  it  through  slowly  with 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  127 

great  care.  When  he  had  finished,  he  looked  up  at  Keith,  and 
there  was  a  gleam  of  admiration  in  his  frosty  eye. 

"You  are  a  lawyer,  I  take  it? "  he  surmised. 

Keith  nodded.  Neil  went  over  the  document  for  the  third 
time. 

"And  a  good  one,"  added  Neil.  "This  is  watertight.  It 
seems  to  be  a  contract  agreeing  to  the  division  you  suggest,  pro 
viding  I  go  into  the  scheme.  Very  well,  I'll  sign  this."  He 
raised  his  voice.  "Samuels,  come  in  and  witness  this.  Now, 
what  is  the  scheme?" 

Keith  produced  another  paper. 

"It  is  written  out  in  detail  here." 

Neil  reached  for  it,  but  Keith  drew  it  back. 

"One  moment." 

He  turned  it  over  on  the  blank  side  and  wrote : 

"This  is  in  full  the  financial  deal  referred  to  in  contract 
entered  into  this  yth  of  June,  1852,  by  Malcolm  Neil  and  Milton 
Keith." 

To  this  he  appended  his  signature,  then  handed  the  pen  to 
Neil. 

"Sign,"  he  requested. 

Neil  took  the  pen,  but  hesitated  for  some  moments,  his  alert 
brain  seeking  some  way  out.  Finally  and  grudgingly  he  signed. 
Then  he  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  eying  Keith  with  rather  a 
wintry  humour,  though  he  made  no  comment.  He  reached  again 
for  the  paper,  but  Keith  put  his  hand  on  it. 

"What  more  do  you  want?"  inquired  Neil  in  amused  tones. 
His  sense  of  humour  had  been  touched  on  its  only  vulnerable 
point.  He  appreciated  keen  and  subtle  practice  when  he  saw  it. 

"Not  a  thing,"  laughed  Keith,  "but  a  few  words  of  explana 
tion  before  you  read  that  will  make  it  more  easily  understood. 
Can  you  tell  me  how  much  water  lots  are  worth?  " 

"Five  to  eight  thousand  for  fifty  varas." 

"  All  right.  I've  bought  ten  fifty  vara  lots  at  sheriff's  sale  for 
five  thousand  dollars." 

Neil's  eye  went  cold. 


128  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

"IVe  heard  of  that.  Your  title  is  no  good.  The  reason  you 
got  them  so  cheaply  was  that  nobody  would  bid  because  of 
that." 

"That's  for  the  courts  to  decide.  The  fact  remains  that  IVe 
a  title,  even  though  clouded,  at  $500  per  lot." 

"Proceed." 

"Well,  the  commissioners  are  now  advertising  a  sale  of  these 
same  lots  at  auction  on  the  i5th." 

"So  I  see." 

"Well,"  said  Keith  softly,  "it  strikes  me  that  whoever  buys 
these  lots  then  is  due  for  a  heap  of  trouble." 

"How  so?" 

"My  title  from  the  sheriff  may  be  clouded,  but  it  will  be 
contested  against  the  title  given  at  that  sale.  The  purchaser 
will  have  to  defend  himself  up  to  the  highest  court.  I  can  prom 
ise  him  a  good  fight." 

Neil  was  now  watching  him  steadily. 

"If  that  fact  could  be  widely  advertised,"  went  on  Keith 
slowly,  "by  way  of  a  threat,  so  to  speak,  it  strikes  me  it  would 
be  very  apt  to  discourage  bidding  at  the  commissioners'  sale. 
Nobody  wants  to  buy  a  lot  of  lawsuits,  at  any  price.  In  ab 
sence  of  competition,  a  fifty  vara  lot  might  be  sold  for  as  low 
as— say  $500." 

Neil  nodded.     Keith  leaned  forward. 

"Now  here's  my  real  idea:  suppose  /  buy  in  against  this 
timid  bidding.  Suppose  /  am  the  one  who  gets  the  commis 
sioners'  title  for  $500.  Then  I  have  both  titles.  And  I  am 
not  likely  to  contest  against  myself.  It's  cost  me  $1,000  per 
lot — $500  at  each  sale — a  profit  of  from  $4,000  to  $7,000  on 
each  lot." 

He  leaned  back.  Malcolm  Neil  sat  like  a  graven  image, 
no  expression  showing  on  his  flintlike  face  nor  in  his  eyes. 
At  length  he  chuckled  harshly.  Then,  and  not  until  then, 
Keith  proceeded: 

"But  that  isn't  all.  There's  plenty  more  scrip  afloat.  If 
you  can  buy  up  as  much  of  it  as  you  can  scrape1  together. 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  129 

I'll  get  judgment  for  it  in  the  courts,  and  we  can  enlarge  the  deal 
until  somebody  smells  a  rat.  We  need  several  things." 

"What?" 

"Secrecy." 

Neil  made  no  reply,  but  the  lines  of  his  mouth  straightened. 

"Influence  to  push  matters  along  in  official  circles." 

"Matters  will  be  pushed  along." 

"A  newspaper." 

"Leave  that  to  me." 

"Agents — not  known  to  be  connected  with  us." 

Neil  nodded. 

"Working  capital — but  that  is  provided  for  in  the  contract. 
And" — he  hesitated — "it  will  not  harm  to  have  these  matters 
brought  before  a  court  whose  judge  is  not  unfriendly." 

"I  can  arrange  for  that,  Mr.  Keith." 

Keith  arose. 

"Then  that  is  settled."  He  picked  up  the  duplicate  copy 
of  the  contract.  "There  remains  only  one  other  formality." 

"Yes?    What?" 

"Your  check  for  $12,000." 

"  What  for?  " 

"  For  my  expenses  in  this  matter  up  to  date." 

"What!"  cried  Neil. 

"The  contract  specifies  that  you  are  to  furnish  the  working 
capital,"  Keith  pointed  out. 

"But  that  means  the  future " 

"It  doesn't  say  so." 

Neil  paused  a  moment. 

"This  contract  would  not  hold  in  law,  and  you  know  it,"  he 
asserted  boldly.  "It  would  be  held  to  be  an  illegal  conspiracy." 

"I  would  be  pleased  to  have  you  point  out  the  illegality 
in  court,"  said  Keith  coldly,  his  manner  as  frosty  as  Neil's. 
"And  if  conspiracy  exists,  your  name  is  affixed  to  it." 

Neil  pondered  this  point  a  moment,  then  drew  his  checkbook 
toward  him  with  a  grim  little  smile. 

"Young  :nin,  you  win,"  said  he. 


150  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

Keith  thawed  to  sunniness  at  once. 

"Oh,  we'll  work  together  all  right,  once  we  understand 
each  other,"  he  laughed.  "Send  your  man  out  after  scrip. 
Let  him  report  to  me." 

Neil  arose  rather  stiffly,  and  extended  his  hand. 

"All  right,  all  right!"  he  muttered,  as  though  impatient. 
"Keep  in  touch.  Good-day.  Good-day." 


XXI 

THE  time  for  the  annual  Firemen's  Ball  was  now  at 
hand.  At  this  period  the  Firemen's  Ball  was  an  in 
stitution  of  the  first  social  importance.  As  has  been 
shown,  the  various  organizations  were  voluntary  associations, 
and  in  their  ranks  birds  of  a  feather  flocked  together.  On  the 
common  meeting  ground  of  the  big  annual  function  all  elements 
met,  even  if  they  did  not  mingle  as  freely  as  they  might. 

In  any  case,  the  affair  was  very  elaborate  and  very  gorgeous. 
Preparations  were  in  the  hands  of  special  committees  months 
in  advance.  One  company  had  charge  of  the  refreshments, 
another  of  the  music,  a  third  of  the  floor  arrangements,  and  so 
on.  There  was  much  jealous  anxiety  that  each  should  do  its 
part  thoroughly  and  lavishly,  for  the  honour  of  its  organization. 
The  members  of  each  committee  were  distinguished  by  coloured 
ribbons,  which  they  wore  importantly  everywhere.  An  air  of 
preoccupied  business  was  the  proper  thing  for  days  before  the 
event. 

It  was  held  this  year  in  one  of  the  armouries.  The  decoration 
committee  had  done  its  most  desperate.  Flags  of  all  nations 
and  strips  of  coloured  bunting  draped  the  rafters;  greens  from 
the  Sausalito  Hills  framed  the  windows  and  doors;  huge  oiled 
Chinese  lanterns  swayed  from  the  roofs.  The  floor  shone  like 
glass.  At  either  end  bowers  of  green  half  concealed  the  orches 
tras — two  of  them,  that  the  music  might  never  cease.  The 
side  rooms  were  set  for  refreshments.  Many  chairs  lined  the 
walls.  Hundreds  of  lamps  and  reflectors  had  been  nailed  up 
in  every  conceivable  place.  It  took  a  negro  over  an  hour  to 
light  them  all.  Near  the  door  stood  a  wide,  flat  table  piled 
high  with  programs  for  the  dancers.  These  were  elaborate 


132  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

affairs,  and  had  cost  a  mint  of  money — vellum  folders,  embla 
zoned  in  colour  outside,  with  a  sort  of  fireman  heraldry  and  the 
motto:  "We  strive  to  save."  Gilded  pencils  on  short  silken 
tasselled  cords  dangled  from  their  corners. 

At  eight  o'clock  the  lights  were  all  blazing,  the  orchestras 
were  tuning,  and  the  floor  fluttered  with  anxious  labelled  com- 
mitteemen  dashing  to  and  fro.  There  was  nothing  for  them 
to  do,  but  they  were  nervous.  By  half-past  eight  the  first 
arrivals  could  be  seen  hesitating  at  the  outer  door,  as  though 
reluctant  to  make  a  plunge;  herded  finally  to  the  right  and 
left  of  men's  and  women's  dressing-rooms.  After  a  long,  chat 
tering  interval,  encouraged  by  the  slow  accumulation  of  num 
bers,  a  little  group  debouched  on  the  main  floor.  Its  members 
all  talked  and  laughed  feverishly,  and  tried  with  varying  suc 
cess  to  assume  an  accustomed  ease  they  did  not  feel.  Most 
of  the  women,  somehow,  seemed  all  white  gloves  and  dancing 
slippers,  and  bore  themselves  rather  like  affable,  slightly  scared 
rabbits.  The  men  suddenly  became  very  facetious,  swapping 
jokes  in  loud  tones. 

The  orchestra  at  the  far  end  immediately  struck  up,  but 
nobody  ventured  on  the  huge  and  empty  floor.  Masters  of 
ceremonies,  much  bebadged,  rather  conscious  of  white  gloves, 
strove  earnestly  with  hurried,  ingratiating  smiles  to  induce  the 
younger  members  to  break  the  ice.  Ben  Sansome,  remarkable 
among  them  for  his  social  ease  and  the  unobtrusive  correctness 
of  his  appointments,  responsible  head  of  the  reception  com 
mittee,  masterfully  seized  a  blushing,  protesting  damsel  and 
whirled  her  away.  This,  however,  was  merely  an  informal  sort 
of  opening.  The  real  ball  could  start  only  with  the  grand 
march;  and  the  grand  march  was  a  pompous  and  intricate 
affair,  possible  only  after  the  arrival  of  the  city's  elite.  Partners 
for  the  grand  march  had  been  bespoken  months  before. 

The  Keiths  arrived  about  half-past  nine.  Nan  was  looking 
particularly  well  in  her  girlish  fashion.  Her  usual  delicate 
colour  was  heightened  by  anticipation,  for  she  intended  ardently 
to  ''have  a  good  time."  For  this  occasion,  too,  she  had  put 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  133 

on  the  best  of  her  new  Eastern  clothes,  and  was  confident  of 
the  sensation  they  would  create  in  the  feminine  breast.  The 
gown  was  of  silk  the  colour  of  pomegranate  blossoms,  light  and 
filmy,  with  the  wide  skirts  of  the  day,  the  short  sleeves,  the 
low  neck.  Over  bodice  and  skirt  had  been  gracefully  trailed 
long  sprays  of  blossoms.  Similar  flowers  wreathed  her  head, 
on  which  the  hair  was  done  low  and  smooth,  with  a  golden  arrow 
securing  it.  A  fine  golden  chain  spanned  her  waist.  From 
it  dangled  smaller  chains  at  the  ends  of  which  depended  little 
golden  hands.  These  held  up  the  front  of  the  skirt  artistically, 
at  just  the  right  height  for  dancing  and  to  show  flounces  and 
ravishing  petticoats  beneath.  It  was  an  innovation  of  the 
sort  the  feminine  heart  delights  in,  a  brand-new  tiling  straight 
from  Paris.  Nan's  gloves  were  of  half  length,  the  backs  of  the 
hands  embroidered  and  displaying  each  several  small  sparkling 
jewels.  The  broad  golden  bracelets  had  been  clasped  outside  the 
gloves.  Around  her  little  finger  was  a  ring  from  which  depended, 
on  the  end  of  a  chain,  a  larger  ring,  and  through  this  larger  ring 
hung  her  dainty  lace  handkerchief.  This  was  innovation  num 
ber  two.  The  men  all  stared  at  her  proud,  delicate,  flowerlike 
effect  of  fresh  beauty;  but  every  woman  present,  and  Nan  knew 
it,  noted  first,  the  cut  of  her  gown,  second,  the  dangling  little 
golden  hands,  and  third,  the  handkerchief  ring.  She  knew  that 
not  later  than  to-morrow  at  least  a  half-dozen  urgent  orders 
would  be  booked  at  Palmerston's;  but  she  knew,  also,  that  at 
least  six  months  must  elapse  before  those  orders  could  be  filled. 
As  for  the  rest,  her  stockings  were  white,  her  slippers  ribboned 
with  cross-ties  up  the  ankles,  she  carried  a  stiff  and  formal 
bouquet,  as  big  around  as  a  plate,  composed  of  wired  flowers 
ornamented  with  a  "cape"  of  lace  paper;  but  those  things  were 
common. 

Altogether,  Nan  looked  extraordinarily  well,  made  a  sensa 
tion.  Keith  was  pleased  and  proud  of  her.  He  picked  one  of 
the  blazoned  vellum  cards  from  the  table  and  scrawled  his 
initials  opposite  half  a  dozen  dances. 

"I'm  going  to  hold  you  to  those,  you  know,"  he  said. 


134  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

"They  proceeded  leisurely  across  the  floor,  and  Keith  estab 
lished  her  in  one  of  the  chairs. 

"Ill  go  get  some  of  the  men  I  want  you  to  meet/'  said  he. 
When  he  returned  with  Bernard  Black  he  found  Nan  already 
surrounded.  Ben  Sansome  was  there,  and  Calhoun  Bennett, 
and  a  half-dozen  others,  either  acquaintances  made  on  some  of 
the  Sundays,  or  young  men  brought  up  by  Sansome  in  his  capac 
ity  of  Master  of  Ceremonies.  She  was  having  a  good  time, 
laughing,  her  colour  high.  Keith  looked  about  him  with  the  in 
tention  of  filling  his  own  card. 

Mrs.  Morrell,  surrounded  by  a  hilarious  group  of  the  younger 
fry,  was  just  entering  the  room.  She  was  dressed  in  flame  colour, 
and  her  gown  was  cut  very  low,  plainly  to  reveal  the  swell  of 
her  ample  bosom.  Her  evening  gloves  and  slippers  were  golden, 
as  was  a  broad  metallic  woven  band  around  her  waist.  Alto 
gether,  striking!  rather  a  conspicuous  effort  than  an  artistic  suc 
cess,  any  woman  would  have  said ;  but  there  could  be  no  doubt  that 
she  had  provided  a  glittering  bait  for  the  attentions  of  the  men. 

Keith  immediately  made  his  way  across  to  her. 

"You  are  ravishing  this  evening,"  he  said,  reaching  for  her 
card.  It  was  full.  Keith  was  chopfallen. 

"Take  me  to  Mrs.  Keith,"  asked  Mrs.  Morrell,  taking  the 
card  again.  "She  looks  charming  to-night;  that  simple  style 
just  suits  her  wide-eyed  innocence." 

She  placed  her  fingers  lightly  on  Keith's  arm  and  moved 
away,  nodding  over  her  shoulder  at  the  rather  nonplussed  young 
men  who  had  come  in  with  her.  Thus  rid  of  them,  she  turned 
again  to  Keith. 

"You  didn't  think  I'd  forget  you!"  she  said  as  though  re 
proachfully.  "See,  I  kept  you  four  dances.  I  put  down  those 
initials  myself.  Now  don't  you  think  I'm  a  pretty  good  sort?" 

"Indeed  I  do!  Which  ones  are  they?"  asked  Keith,  opening 
Ms  own  card. 

"The  third,  seventh,  ninth,  and  eleventh." 

Keith  hesitated  for  an  appreciable  instant.  The  seventh 
and  ejeventh  he  had  put  down  for  Nan.  3ut  somehow  jn  the 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  135- 

face  of  tliis  smiling,  cynical-looking,  vivid  creature,  he  rather 
shrank  from  saying  that  he  had  them  with  his  wife.  He  swiftly 
reflected  that,  after  all,  he  had  four  others  with  Nan,  that  she  was 
so  surrounded  with  admirers  that  she  could  not  go  partnerless, 
and  that  he  would  explain. 

"Delightful!"  he  cried,  pencilling  his  program. 

Mrs.  Morrell  fluttered  down  alongside  Mrs.  Keith  with  much 
small  talk.  After  a  moment  the  music  started  for  the  grand 
march.  Everybody  took  the  floor. 

"Where  can  Charley  be!"  cried  Mrs.  Morrell  in  apparent 
distress.  "Don't  wait  here  with  me.  I  assure  you  I  do  not 
in  the  least  mind  sitting  alone." 

But  she  said  it  in  a  fashion  that  made  it  impossible,  and  in  this 
manner  Nan  lost  her  first  engagement  with  her  husband.  Not 
that  it  mattered  particularly,  she  told  herself,  grand  marches 
were  rather  silly  things,  and  yet  she  could  not  avoid  a  feeling  of 
thwarted  pique  at  being  so  tied  to  the  wall. 

At  the  close  of  the  march,  and  after  the  couples  had  pretty 
well  resumed  their  seats,  Mrs.  Sherwood  entered,  unattended 
and  very  leisurely.  She  made,  in  her  quieter  manner,  a  greater 
sensation  than  had  Mrs.  Morrell.  Quite  self-possessed,  carry 
ing  herself  with  her  customary  poise,  dressed  unobtrusively  in 
black  and  gold,  but  with  the  distinction  of  an  indubitable 
Parisian  model,  moving  without  self-consciousness  in  contrast 
to  many  of  the  other  women,  her  small  head  high,  her  direct 
gaze  a-smoulder  with  lazy  amusement,  she  glided  across  the 
middle  of  the  floor.  The  eyes  of  every  woman  in  the  ballroom 
were  upon  her.  The  "respectable"  element  stared  shamelessly, 
making  comments  aside.  Those  a  little  dtdasse,  on  the  fringe 
of  society,  or  the  "faster"  women  like  Mrs.  Morrell — who 
might  in  a  way  be  considered  her  rivals — were  apparently 
quite  unaware  of  her.  She  made  her  unhasting  way  to  a  vacant 
chair,  sat  down,  and  looked  calmly  about  her. 

Immediately  she  was  surrounded  by  a  swarm  of  the  unat 
tached  men.  The  attached  men  became  very  attentive  to  their 
partners. 


136  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

"Hullo,"  remarked  Keith  cheerfully.  "There's  Mrs.  Sher 
wood.  I  must  go  over  and  say  good-evening  to  her." 

On  sudden  impulse  Nan  rose  with  him.  She  instinctively  dis 
liked  her  present  company  and  the  situation;  and  a  sudden  pang 
of  conscience  had  told  her  that  not  once  since  she  had  left  the 
Bella  Union  had  she  laid  eyes  on  the  woman  who  had  received 
her  with  so  much  kindness. 

"Take  me  with  you,"  she  said  to  Keith. 

"My  dear!"  cried  Mrs.  Morrell.  "You  wouldn't!  Take  my 
advice — you're  young  and  innocent!" 

She  sought  one  of  those  exclusive,  private-joke  glances  at 
Keith,  but  failed  to  catch  his  eye. 

"She  was  very  kind  to  me  when  I  arrived,"  said  Nan  serenely. 
Keith  hesitated,  then  his  impulsive,  warm-hearted  loyalty  spoke. 

"  Good  for  you,  Nan! "  he  cried. 

They  moved  away,  leaving  Mrs.  Morrell  alone,  biting  her  lip 
and  planning  revenges. 

The  group  around  Mrs.  Sherwood  fell  away  at  their  approach. 
Nan  sat  down  next  her,  leaning  forward  with  a  pretty  and  girlish 
impulsiveness. 

"It's  ages  since  I  have  seen  you,  and  I  have  no  excuse  to 
offer,"  she  said.  "  The  days  slip  by." 

"  I  know,"  said  Mrs.  Sherwood.  " New  house,  new  Chinaman, 
even  new  dog — enough  to  drive  the  most  important  thoughts  out 
of  one's  head.  But  you've  come  out  to-night  like  a  flower,  my 
dear.  Your  gown  is  charming,  and  it  suits  you  so  well! " 

She  chatted  on,  speaking  of  the  floor,  the  music,  the  decora 
tions,  the  crowd. 

"I  love  this  sort  of  thing,"  she  remarked.  "People  in  the 
mass  amuse  me.  Jack  couldn't  get  away  until  midnight,  but  I 
wouldn't  wait  for  him.  I  told  him  it  didn't  worry  me  a  bit  to 
come  without  an  escort,"  smoothing  away  what  little  em 
barrassment  might  linger.  The  music  started  up  again.  The 
Keiths  ajose  and  made  their  adieux.  Mrs.  Sherwood  looked 
after  them,  her  bright  eyes  tender.  Mrs.  Keith  was  the  only 
woman  who  had  yet  spoken  to  her. 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  137 

" Isn't  she  simply  stunning?"  cried  Keith.  "She  has  some 
thing  about  her  that  makes  most  of  these  others  look  cheap." 

"She's  really  wonderfully  attractive  and  distinguished  look 
ing,"  agreed  Nan. 

"If  she  were  only  a  little  less  practical — a  little  softer;  more 
feminine — she'd  be  a  sure-enough  man  killer.  As  it  is,  she  needs 
a  little  more — you  know  what  I  mean " 

"More  after  Mrs.  MorrelTs  fashion,"  suggested  Nan  a  trifle 
wickedly.  It  popped  out  on  the  impulse,  and  the  next  instant 
Nan  would  have  given  anything  if  the  words  had  not  been  said. 
Keith  was  arrested  in  mid-enthusiasm  as  though  by  cold 
water.  He  checked  himself,  looked  at  her  sharply,  then  accepted 
the  pseudo-challenge. 

"Well,  Mrs.  Morrell,  for  all  her  little  vulgarities,  impresses 
you  as  being  a  very  human  sort  of  person." 

He  felt  a  sudden  and  unreasoning  anger,  possibly  because  the 
shot  had  hit  a  tender  place. 

"  Shall  we  dance?  "  he  suggested  formally. 

"I'm  sorry,"  replied  Nan,  "I  have  this  with  Mr.  Sansome; 
there  he  comes." 

For  the  first  time  Keith  felt  a  little  irritated  at  the  ubiquitous 
Sansome;  but  his  sense  of  justice,  while  it  could  not  smooth  his 
ruffled  feelings,  nevertheless  made  itself  heard. 

"  What  I  need  is  a  drink,"  he  told  himself. 

At  the  buffet  he  found  a  crowd  of  the  non-dancing  men,  or 
those  who  had  failed  to  get  the  early  numbers.  Here  were  many 
of  his  acquaintances;  among  them,  to  his  surprise,  he  recognized 
the  grim  features  of  Malcolm  Neil.  All  were  drinking  champagne. 
Keith  joined  them.  They  chaffed  him  unmercifully  about  his 
purchases  of  clouded  titles  in  water  lots,  and  he  answered  them 
in  kind,  aware  of  Neil's  sardonically  humorous  eye  fixed  on  him. 
But  at  the  first  bars  of  the  next  dance  he  bolted  in  search  of  Mrs. 
Morrell,  with  whom,  he  remembered,  he  had  this  number. 

Mrs.  Morrell  danced  smoothly  and  lightly  for  a  woman  of  her 
size,  but  was  inclined  to  snuggle  up  too  close  to  permit  undis- 
tracted  guidance  to  her  partner.  It  was  almost  impossible  to 


138  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

avoid  collisions  with  other  couples,  unless  one  possessed  a 
Spartan  mind  and  an  iron  will.  In  spite  of  himself,  Keith  be 
came  increasingly  aware  of  her  breast  pressing  against  his  chest; 
her  smooth  arm  against  his  shoulder;  the  occasional  passing  con 
tact  of  her,  scarcely  veiled  from  the  sense  of  touch  by  the  thin 
flame-coloured  silk;  the  perfume  she  affected;  the  faint  odour  of 
her  bright  blond  hair.  In  an  attempt  to  break  the  spell  he 
made  some  banal  remark,  but  she  shook  her  head  impatiently. 
She  danced  with  her  eyes  half  closed.  When  the  music  stopped 
she  drew  a  deep  sighing  breath. 

"  You  dance — oh,  divinely ! "  she  cried.  "  I  might  have  known 
it." 

She  moved  away,  and  Keith  followed  her,  a  trifle  intoxicated. 

"  Let  me  see  your  card,"  she  demanded  abruptly.  "  Why,  you 
haven't  done  your  duty;  this  is  hardly  a  third  filled ! " 

"I  hadn't  started  to  fill  it — and  then  you  came  in,"  breathed 
Keith. 

They  were  opposite  the  door  leading  into  one  of  the  numerous 
small  rooms  off  the  main  floor  of  the  armoury. 

"Let's  sit  here — and  you  can  get  me  a  punch,"  she  suggested. 

He  brought  the  punch,  and  she  drank  it  slowly,  leaning  back  in 
an  easy  chair.  The  place  was  dimly  lighted,  and  her  blond,  full 
beauty  was  more  effective  than  in  the  more  brilliantly  lighted 
ballroom.  Mrs.  Morrell  exerted  all  her  fascination.  The  next 
dance  was  half  over  before  either  Keith  or — apparently — Mrs, 
Morrell  became  aware  of  the  fact. 

"Oh,  you  must  run!"  she  cried,  apparently  greatly  exercised. 
"  Don' t  mind  me ;  go  and  find  your  partner. ' ' 

Keith  replied  that  he  had  this  dance  free,  a  fact  of  which  her 
inspection  of  his  card  had  perfectly  informed  her.  In  answer  to 
his  return  solicitation  as  to  her  own  partner,  she  shrugged  her 
shoulders. 

" Oh,  he'll  find  me,"  she  said  indifferently.  "  This  is  very  cozy 
here." 

They  resumed  what  had  become  an  ardent  flirtation.  Toward 
the  end  of  the  dance  Mrs.  MorrelFs  partner  came  in,  looking  very 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  139 

flurried.  Before  he  could  say  a  word,  Mrs.  Morrell  began  re 
proachfully  to  chide  him  with  lack  of  diligence. 

"I've  been  waiting  just  rooted  to  this  spot!"  she  said  truth 
fully. 

"Shall  we  dance?"  suggested  the  unfortunate  young  man. 

"It's  nearly  over,"  replied  Mrs.  Morrell  carelessly.  "Do  sit 
down  with  us.  Get  yourself  something  to  drink.  Don't  go!" 
she  commanded  Keith  fiercely  under  her  breath. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  fourth  dance,  however,  her  next 
partner  found  her  and  led  her  away.  She  "made  a  face"  over 
her  shoulder  at  Keith. 

When  a  woman  makes  up  her  mind  to  monopolize  a  man  who 
has  not  acquired  the  fine  arts  of  rudeness  and  escape  she  generally 
succeeds.  Keith's  cordial  nature  was  incapable  of  rudeness. 
Besides,  being  a  perfectly  normal  man,  and  Mrs.  Morrell  ex 
perienced  and  attractive,  he  liked  h°ing  monopolized.  It 
crossed  his  mind  once  or  twice  that  he  might  be  in  for  a  scolding 
when  he  got  home.  Nan  might  be  absurd.  But  he  was  so 
secure  in  his  essential  loyalty  to  Nan  that  his  present  conduct 
was  more  in  the  nature  of  a  delightfully  naughty  escapade  than 
anything  else.  He  stole  the  apples  now,  and  later  would  go  duti 
fully  for  his  licking.  Men  of  Keith's  nature  are  easily  held  and 
managed  by  a  wise  woman,  but  the  woman  must  be  very  wise. 
Keith  loved  celebrations.  On  the  wings  of  an  occasion  he  rose 
joyfully  and  readily  to  incredible  altitudes  of  high-spirited  but 
harmless  recklessness.  Birthdays,  anniversaries,  New  Years, 
Christmas,  arrivals,  departures,  he  seized  upon  with  rapture. 
Each  had  its  appropriate  ceremonial,  its  traditional  drink,  the 
painstaking  brewing  of  which  was  a  sacred  rite.  On  such 
occasions  he  tossed  aside  the  cloak  of  the  everyday.  A  "cele 
bration"  meant  that  you  were  different.  Humdrum  life  and 
habits  must  be  relegated  to  the  background.  It  was  permitted 
that,  unabashed,  you  be  as  silly,  as  frivolous,  as  inconsequential, 
as  boisterous,  as  lighthearted,  as  delightfully  irresponsible  as 
your  ordinary  concealed  boyishness  pleased.  Customary  re 
pressions  had  nothing  to  do  here.  This  was  a  celebration! 


140  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

And  in  the  aforementioned  our  very  wise  woman  would  have 
seen — a  safety  valve. 

Keith  was  off  on  a  celebration  to-night:  an  unpremeditated, 
freakish,  impish,  essentially  harmless  celebration,  with  a  faint 
flavour  of  mischief  in  it  because  he  had  Nan  in  the  back  of  his 
head  all  the  time.  He  played  up  to  Mrs.  Morrell  with  exuber 
ance,  with  honestly  no  thought  except  that  he  was  having  a 
whacking  good  time,  and  that  old  Nan  was  being  teased.  It 
was  characteristic  that  for  the  time  being  he  fell  completely  under 
Mrs.  MorrelPs  fascination.  They  were  together  fully  half  the 
time,  appearing  on  the  floor  only  occasionally,  then  disappearing 
in  one  or  the  other  of  the  many  nooks.  Mrs.  Morrell  "bolted" 
her  dances  shamelessly.  Keith  thought  her  awfully  amusing  and 
ingenious  in  the  way  she  managed  this.  Sometimes  they  hid  in 
out-of-the-way  places.  Sometimes  she  pretended  to  have  mis 
taken  the  dance.  "The  sixth,  are  you  very  sure?  I'm  con 
vinced  it  is  only  the  fifth."  Keith's  conscience  troubled  him  a 
little  concerning  the  few  names  on  his  own  card. 

"I  have  this  with  Mrs.  Wilkins,"  said  he.  "I  really  ought  to 
go  and  look  her  up." 

She  took  his  card  from  him  and  deliberately  tore  it  to  small 
bits  which  she  blew  from  the  palm  of  her  gloved  hand.  He  pro- 
tes'ted  in  real  dismay,  but  she  looked  him  challengingly,  recklessly, 
in  the  eye,  until  he  laughed,  too. 

All  this  was,  of  course,  well  noticed.  Keith,  again  characteris 
tically,  had  not  taken  into  consideration  the  great  public.  Nan 
might  have  remained  comparatively  indifferent  to  Keith's 
philandering  about  for  an  evening  with  the  Morrell  creature — 
she  had  by  now  a  dim  but  growing  understanding  of  "celebra 
tions"— but  that  he  should  deliberately  neglect  and  insult  her  in 
the  face  of  all  San  Francisco  was  too  much.  Her  high,  young 
enjoyment  of  the  evening  fell  to  ashes.  She  was  furiously  angry, 
but  she  was  a  thoroughbred.  Only  a  heightened  colour  and  a 
sparkling  eye  might  have  betrayed  her  to  an  astute  woman. 
Observing  her,  Ben  Sansome  took  heart.  It  was  evident  to  him 
that  the  Keiths  had  long  since  reached  an  absolute  indifference  in 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  141 

their  relations,  that  they  lived  the  conventional,  tolerant, 
separate  lives  of  the  majority  of  married  couples  in  Ben  San- 
some's  smart  acquaintance.  He  ventured  to  apply  himself  more 
assiduously,  and  was  by  no  means  badly  received. 

Keith  remembered  the  next  dance  with  his  wife.  He  could  not 
find  her,  although,  a  trifle  conscience  stricken,  he  searched  every 
where.  After  the  music  had  finished,  she  emerged  from  the 
dressing-room;  the  next  time  she  could  not  be  found  at  all. 
Evidently  she  was  avoiding  him  with  intention. 

Mrs.  Sherwood,  after  each  dance,  returned  invariably  to  the 
same  chair  near  the  middle  of  one  wall.  There,  owing  to  the 
fact  that  the  "respectables"  withdrew  from  the  chairs  on  either 
side,  withdrew  gradually  and  without  open  rudeness,  she  held 
centre  of  a  little  court  of  her  own.  This  made  of  it  a  sort  of  post 
of  observation  from  which  she  could  review  all  that  was  going  on. 
She  had  no  lack  of  partners,  for  she  danced  wonderfully,  and  in 
looks  was  quite  the  most  distinguished  woman  there.  Keith's 
dance  with  her  came  and  went,  but  no  Keith  appeared  to  claim  it. 
Mrs.  Sherwood  smiled  a  little  grimly,  and  her  glance  strayed 
down  the  wall  opposite  until  it  rested  on  Nan.  She  examined 
the  girl  speculatively.  Nan  was  apparently  completely  ab 
sorbed  in  Ben  Sansome;  but  there  was  in  her  manner  something 
feverish,  hectic,  a  mere  nothing,  which  did  not  escape  Mrs.  Sher 
wood's  keen  eye. 

About  midnight  Sherwood  appeared,  and  at  once  made  his 
way  to  his  wife's  side.  He  was  punctiliously  dressed  in  the  mode: 
a  "swallowtail,"  bright,  soft  silk  tie  of  ample  proportions, 
frilled  linen,  and  sparkling  studs.  He  bent  with  an  old-world 
formality  over  his  wife's  hand.  She  swept  away  her  skirts 
from  the  chair  at  her  side,  her  eyes  sparkling  softly  with 
pleasure. 

"You  won't  mind,"  she  said  carelessly  to  the  young  men 
surrounding  her,  "I  want  to  talk  to  Jack  for  a  minute." 

They  arose,  laughing  a  little. 

"That  is  your  one  fault,  Mrs.  Sherwood,"  said  one,  "you  are 
altogether  too  fond  of  your  husband." 


142  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

"Well,  how  are  things  going?"  asked  Sherwood,  as  they  moved 
away. 

"I'm  having  a  good  time.    But  you're  very  late,  Jack." 

"I  know— I  wanted  to  come  earlier.    Everything  all  right?" 

At  the  question  a  little  frown  sketched  itself  on  her  clear 
brow. 

"  In  general,  yes,"  she  said.  "  But  they've  got  that  Lewis  boy 
out  in  the  bar  filling  him  up  on  champagne." 

"That's  a  pity." 

"It's  a  burning  shame!"  said  she.  "And  I'd  like  to  shake 
young  Keith.  He's  dangled  after  the  Morrell  woman  from  start 
to  finish  in  a  manner  scandalous  to  behold." 

Sherwood  laughed. 

"The  ' Morrell  woman'  will  do  his  education  good,"  he  re 
marked. 

"Well,  she  isn't  doing  that  poor  little  Mrs.  Keith's  education 
any  good,"  returned  Mrs.  Sherwood  rather  tartly. 

Sherwood  surveyed  Nan  and  Ben  Sansome  leisurely. 

"  I  must  say  she  doesn't  look  crushed,"  he  said,  after  a  moment. 

"Do  you  expect  her  to  weep  violently? "  asked  Mrs.  Sherwood. 

He  accepted  good  naturedly  the  customary  feminine  scorn  for 
the  customary  masculine  obtuseness. 

"Well,  I  don't  know  that  we  can  help  it,"  said  he,  philo 
sophically. 

Mrs.  Sherwood  appeared  to  come  to  a  sudden  resolution. 
She  arose. 

"You  go  get  that  Lewis  boy  away  from  the  bar,"  she  com 
manded. 

Deliberately  she  shook  and  arranged  her  full  skirts.  The 
man  with  whom  she  had  this  dance,  and  who  had  been  waiting 
dutifully  for  the  conference  to  close,  darted  forward.  She 
shook  her  head  at  him  smilingly. 

"I'm  going  to  let  you  off,"  she  told  him.  "You  won't  mind. 
I  have  something  extra  special  to  do." 

She  swept  quite  alone  across  the  middle  of  the  ballroom,  se 
rene,  self-possessed,  and  walked  directly  toward  Keith  and  Mrs, 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  143 

Morrcll,  who  were  seated  together  at  the  other  end.  A  per 
ceptible  pause  seemed  to  descend.  The  music  kept  on  playing, 
couples  kept  on  dancing,  but,  nevertheless,  suddenly  the  air  was 
charged  with  attention.  Sherwood  looked  after  her  with  min 
gled  astonishment  and  fond  pride. 

"A  frontal  attack,  egad!"  said  he  to  himself. 

Keith  and  Mrs.  Morrell  pretended,  as  long  as  they  decently 
could,  not  to  see  her.  She  swam  leisurely  toward  them.  Finally 
Keith  arose  hastily;  Mrs.  Morrell  stared  straight  ahead. 

"Young  man,"  accused  Mrs.  Sherwood,  with  a  faint  amuse 
ment  in  her  rich,  low  voice,  "do  you  know  that  this  is  our 
dance?" 

Keith  excused  his  apparent  lapse  volubly,  telling  several 
times  over  that  his  program  had  been  destroyed,  that  he  was 
abject  when  he  thought  of  the  light  this  put  him  in. 

"It  is  only  when  angels  like  yourself  condescend  to  reach 
me  a  helping  hand  that  I  have  even  a  chance  to  right  myself," 
he  added.  He  thought  this  rather  a  good  touch. 

Mrs.  Sherwood  stood  before  him  easily,  in  perfect  repose 
of  manner,  the  half  smile  still  sketching  her  lips.  She  said  just 
nothing  at  all  in  response  to  his  glib  excuses;  but  when  he  had 
quite  finished  she  laid  her  hand  in  his  arm.  Mrs.  Morrell, 
her  colour  high,  continued  to  stare  straight  ahead,  immobile 
except  for  the  tapping  of  one  foot.  To  Keith's  request  to  be 
excused  she  vouchsafed  a  stiff  half  nod,  partly  in  his  direc 
tion. 

They  danced.  Mrs.  Sherwood,  like  most  people  who  have 
command  enough  of  their  muscles  to  be  able  to  keep  them  in 
graceful  repose,  danced  marvellously  well.  When  she  stopped 
after  a  single  turn  of  the  room,  Keith  expostulated  vigorously. 

"You  are  a  perfect  partner,"  he  told  her. 

"Take  me  in  here  and  get  me  a  sherbet,"  she  commanded, 
without  replying  to  his  protests.  "That's  good,"  she  said, 
when  she  had  tasted  it.  "Now  sit  down  and  listen  to  me. 
You  are  making  a  perfect  spectacle  of  yourself.  Don't  you 
know  it?" 


144  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

Keith  stiffened  to  an  extreme  formality. 

"I  beg  your  pardon!"  said  he  freezingly. 

"That  may  be  your  personal  and  individual  right' ' — went  on 
Mrs.  Sherwood's  low,  rich  voice  evenly.  She  was  not  even 
looking  at  him,  but  rather  idly  toward  the  open  door  into  the 
ballroom.  Her  fan  swung  from  one  ringer;  every  line  of  her 
body  was  relaxed.  She  might  have  been  tossing  him  ordinary 
commonplaces  from  the  surface  of  a  detached  mind — "making 
a  spectacle  sf  yourself/'  she  explained;  "but  you're  making 
a  perfect  spectacle  of  your  wife  as  well — and  in  public.  That 
is  not  your  right  at  all." 

Keith  sprang  to  his  feet,  furious. 

"You  are  meddling  with  what  is  really  my  own  business, 
madam,"  said  he. 

For  the  first  time  she  looked  up  at  him,  clearly  and  steadily 
in  the  eyes. 

"Very  well.  That  is  true.  Stop  a  moment  and  think. 
Are  you  attending  to  your  business  yourself,  even  decently? 
Yes,  I  understand;  you  are  angry  with  me.  If  I  were  a  man, 
you  would  challenge  me  to  a  duel  and  all  that  sort  of  thing." 
She  smiled  indifferently.  "Let's  take  that  for  granted  and  get 
on.  Sweep  it  aside.  You  are  man  enough  to  do  it,  or  I  mis 
take  you  greatly.  Look  down  into  yourself  for  even  one 
second.  Are  you  playing  fair  all  around?  Aren't  you  a  little 
ashamed?" 

She  held  him  with  her  clear,  level  gaze.  His  own  gaze  did 
not  fall  before  it,  and  his  head  went  back,  but  slowly  his  face 
and  neck  turned  red.  Thus  they  stared  at  each  other  for  a  full 
half  minute,  she  smiling  slightly,  perfectly  cool;  he  seething  with 
a  suppressed  emotion  of  some  sort.  Then  she  turned  indolently 
away. 

"You're  too  fine  to  do  things  like  that,"  she  said,  with  a  new 
softness  in  her  voice;  "we  all  have  too  much  faith  in  you.  The 
common  tricks  would  not  appeal  to  you,  except  hi  idleness;  is  it 
not  so?" 

She  smiled  up  at  him,  a  little  sidewise.    Keith  caught  his 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  145 

breath.  For  a  fleeting  instant  this  extraordinary  woman  deigned 
to  exert  her  feminine  charm-  for  the  first  time  the  coquette 
looked  from  her  eyes;  for  the  first  time  he  saw  mysteriously 
deep  in  her  veiled  nature  a  depth  of  possibility,  of  rich  possi 
bility — he  could  not  grasp  it — it  was  gone.  But  in  spite  of 
himself  his  pulses  leaped  like  a  flame.  But  now  she  was  gazing 
again  at  the  ballroom  door,  cool,  indolent,  aloof,  unapproach 
able.  Yet  just  at  that  instant,  somehow,  the  other  woman 
looked  shallow,  superficial,  cold.  His  glance  fell  on  Mrs.  MorreD 
still  sitting  where  he  had  left  her.  Something  was  wrong  with 
her  effect 

Analysis  was  submerged  in  a  blaze  of  anger.  This  anger 
was  not  now  against  the  woman  before  him;  his  instinct  pre 
vented  that.  Nor  against  Mrs.  Morrell  nor  his  wife;  reluctant 
justice  prevented  that.  Nor  against  himself — where  it  really 
belonged.  Things  were  out  of  joint;  he  felt  cross-grained  and 
ugly.  Mrs.  Sherwood  rose. 

"You  may  take  me  back  now,"  said  she. 

As  they  glided  across  the  floor  together,  her  small  sleek  head 
came  just  above  his  shoulder.  No  embarrassment  disturbed 
her  manner.  Keith  could  not  find  in  him  a  spark  of  resentment 
against  her.  She  moved  by  his  side  with  an  air  of  poise  and 
detachment  as  a  woman  whose  mind  had  long  since  weighed  and 
settled  the  affairs  of  her  own  cosmos  so  that  trifles  could  not 
disturb  her. 

Leaving  her  in  her  accustomed  chair,  where  Sherwood  waited, 
Keith  loyally  returned  to  Mrs.  Morrell,  who  still  sat  alone. 
Subconsciously  he  noticed  something  wrong  with  Mrs.  Morrell. 
Her  gowning  was  indeed  rather  a  conspicuous  effort  than  an 
artistic  success.  She  had  badly  torn  her  dress — perhaps  that 
was  it. 

Mrs.  Morrell  received  him  with  every  appearance  of  sympathy. 

"You  poor  thing!"  she  cried.  "What  a  fearful  situation! 
Of  course  I  know  you  couldn't  help  it." 

But  Keith  was  grumpy  and  monosyllabic.  He  refused  to 
discuss  the  situation  or  Mrs.  Sherwood,  returning  with  an  ob- 


146  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

vious  effort  to  commonplaces.  Mrs.  Morrell  exerted  all  kef 
fascination  to  get  him  back  to  the  former  level.  A  little  cold 
imp  sat  in  the  back  of  Keith's  brain  and  criticised  sardonically: 
Why  will  big  women  persist  in  being  kittenish?  Why  doesn't 
she  mend  that  awful  rent,  it's  fairly  sloppy!  Suppose  she  thinks 
that  kind  of  talk  is  funny!  I  do  wish  she  wouldn't  laugh  hi 
that  shrill,  cackling  fashion!  In  short,  the  very  tricks  that 
an  hour  ago  were  jolly  and  amusing  were  now  tiresome.  Having 
been  distrait,  ungallant,  masculinely  put  out  for  another  fifteen 
minutes,  he  abruptly  excused  himself,  sought  out  Nan,  and  went 
home. 

From  her  point  of  observation,  Mrs.  Sherwood  watched  them 
go.  Nan  looked  very  tired,  and  every  line  of  Keith's  figure  ex 
pressed  a  grumpy  moroseness. 

"Congratulations,"  said  Sherwood. 

"He  certainly  is  a  child  of  nature,"  returned  his  wife.  "  Look 
at  him!  He  is  cross,  so  he  looks  cross.  That  this  is  a  ball 
room  and  that  all  San  Francisco  is  present  is  a  mere  detail." 

"How  did  you  break  it  up?"  asked  Sherwood  curiously. 

"Men  are  so  utterly  ridiculous!  He  had  built  up  a  lot  of 
illusions  for  himself,  but  his  instincts  are  true  and  good.  It 
needed  only  a  touch.  It  was  absurdly  simple." 

"He'll  go  back  to  the  Morrell  to-morrow,"  asserted  Sherwood 
confidently. 

She  shook  her  head. 

"Not  to  her.  He  sees  her  now.  And  not  to-morrow.  But 
eventually  to  somebody,  perhaps.  He  has  curly  hair." 

Sherwood  laughed. 

"Shear  him,  like  Sampson,"  he  suggested.  "But  it  strikes 
me  he  has  about  the  most  attractive  woman — bar  one — in  town 
right  at  home." 

"She'd  have  no  trouble  in  holding  him  if  she  were  only 
awake.  But  she's  only  a  dear  little  child — and  about  as  help 
less.  She  has  very  little  subtlety.  I'm  afraid  she'll  follow  the 
instincts  of  her  training.  She'll  be  too  proud  to  do  anything 
herself  to  attract  her  husband,  once  his  attentions  to  her  saem 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  147 

to  drop  off.  She'll  just  become  cold  and  proud — and  perhaps 
eventually  turn  elsewhere." 

"I  don't  believe  she's  a  bit  that  kind,"  asserted  Sherwood 
positively. 

"Nor  do  I.  But,  Jack,  a  woman  lonely  enough  has  fancies 
that  in  the  long  run  may  become  convictions." 


XXII 

MRS.  SHERWOOD  was  completely  right.  Keith  had 
seen  Mrs.  Morrell.  The  glamour  had  fallen  from  her 
at  a  touch.  He  did  not  in  the  least  understand  how  this 
had  happened,  and  considered  that  it  was  his  own  fault.  Mrs. 
Morrell  had  not  changed  in  the  least,  but  he  had,  somehow. 
He  looked  upon  himself  as  fickle,  disloyal,  altogether  despicable. 
Yet  for  the  life  of  him  he  could  not  get  up  the  slightest  spark 
of  enthusiasm  for  musical  evenings,  Sunday  night  suppers,  or 
week-end  excursions  into  the  country.  They  had  fallen  dead 
to  his  taste;  and  with  the  sudden  revolt  to  which  such  tempera 
ments  as  his  are  subject,  he  could  not  bear  even  the  thought 
of  them  without  a  feeling  of  incipient  boredom.  The  blow 
administered  to  his  self-respect  put  him  quite  out  of  conceit 
with  himself  and  the  world  in  general.  If  he  had  followed  his 
natural  instinct,  he  would  instanter  have  thrown  overboard  all 
the  Morrell  episode,  bag  and  baggage. 

But  that  was,  of  course,  impossible.  Keith  felt  his  obliga 
tions;  he  was  a  man  of  honour;  he  had  respect  for  the  feelings 
of  others;  he  could  not  make  friendly  people  the  victims  of  his 
own  outrageous  freaks.  That  was  out  of  the  question! 

Mrs.  Morrell  sent  for  him.  She  had  been  puzzled  by  the 
episode  of  the  evening  before.  It  would  have  been  absolutely 
incredible  to  her  that  a  hundred  words  from  a  woman  who  was 
not  her  rival  could  have  destroyed  her  influence  over  this  man. 
She  had  considerable  knowledge  of  men,  and  she  had  played  her 
cards  carefully.  But  she  realized  that  something  was  the 
matter;  and  she  thought  that  the  time  had  come  to  use  the  power 
she  had  gained.  A  note  dispatched  by  the  Chinaman  would  do. 

Keith  obeyed  the  summons.    He  knew  himself  well  enough 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  149 

to  realize  that  the  intimacy,  such  as  it  was,  must  come  to  a 
pretty  abrupt  termination.  Otherwise,  he  would  shortly  get 
very  bored;  and  when  he  got  very  bored  he  became,  in  spite  of 
himself,  reserved  and  self-contained  to  the  point  of  rudeness. 
For  the  exact  reason  that  he  saw  thus  clearly,  his  conscience  was 
smiting  him  hard.  Mrs.  Morrell  had  done  nothing  to  deserve 
this  treatment.  He  was  a  dastard,  a  coward,  ashamed  of  him 
self.  If  she  wanted  to  see  him,  it  was  her  due  that  he  obey  her 
summons  promptly.  He  went  with  the  vague  idea  of  making 
amends  by  doing  whatever  she  seemed  to  require — for  this  once. 

She  entered  the  dim  sitting-room  clad  in  a  flowing  silken 
negligee,  which  she  excused  on  the  ground  of  laziness. 

"I'm  still  a  little  tired  from  last  night,"  she  said,  with  a  laugh. 

The  soft  material  and  informal  cut  clung  to  and  defined  the 
lines  of  her  figure,  showing  to  especial  advantage  the  long  sweep 
of  her  hips,  the  pliancy  of  her  waist,  the  swell  of  her  fine  bust. 
A  soft  lilac  colour  set  off  the  glint  of  her  fair  hair.  She  was,  in 
fact,  feeling  a  little  languid  from  the  reaction  of  the  ball  and 
in  a  sudden  rush  of  emotion  she  admired  Keith's  crisp  freshness. 
Her  eyes  swam  a  little  and  her  breast  heaved. 

But  the  preliminary  conversation  went  by  jerks.  Keith 
answered  her  advances  with  an  effort  toward  ease  and  cordiality, 
but  with  a  guarded,  unnatural  manner  that  sent  a  sudden  pre 
monitory  chill  to  the  woman's  heart.  Her  instinct  warned  her. 
As  the  minutes  passed,  her  uneasiness  grew  to  the  point  of  fear. 
Was  she  losing  him?  Why?  This  was  no  time  for  ordinary 
methods. 

She  arose  and  went  to  sit  by  his  side. 

"What's  the  matter,  dear?"  she  asked. 

"Nothing." 

"Why  are  you  acting  in  this  manner?    What  have  I  done?" 

"I'm  not;  you  haven't  done  anything — of  course." 

She  suddenly  leaned  forward,  looking  into  his  eyes,  projecting 
all  the  force  of  her  magnetism.  She  had  before  seen  him  respond, 
felt  him  quiver  to  her  tentative,  mischievous  advances. 

"Kiss  me/'  she  breathed. 


150  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

Poor  Keith  was  having  a  miserable  enough  time.  He  clung 
to  his  first  thought — that  this  evening  was  her  due,  that  he 
was  in  some  way  bound,  in  ending  everything,  to  pay  whatever 
coin  he  had  left.  He  obeyed  her,  touching  her  lips  lightly  and 
coldly  with  his  own.  Never  was  chaster  caress  bestowed  on 
melting  mood! 

She  flung  him  violently  aside,  her  face  writhing  and  contorted 
with  fury.  She  was  enlightened,  completely,  as  she  could  have 
been  enlightened  in  no  other  manner. 

"You  can  go!"  she  cried  hoarsely.  "Get  out!  Don't  dare 
enter  this  house  again!" 

He  made  some  sort  of  spiritless,  feeble  protest,  trying  his  best 
to  put  some  convincing  quality  into  it.  But  she  did  not  even 
listen.  The  ungoverned  tiger-cat  part  of  her  nature  was  in  the 
ascendant,  the  fierce  pride  of  the  woman  living  near  the  edge 
of  the  half-world.  She  would  gladly  have  killed  him.  At  length 
he  went,  very  confused,  bewildered,  miserable — and  relieved! 
He  left  behind  him  a  bitter  enemy. 


XXIII 

IN  COMPLETE  revulsion,  Keith  scuttled  the  frivolous  world 
of  women.  As  he  expressed  it,  he  was  sick  of  women. 
They  made  him  tired.  Too  much  fuss  trying  to  keep  even 
with  their  vagaries.  A  man  liked  something  he  could  bite 
on.  He  plunged  with  all  the  enthusiasm  and  energy  of  his 
vivid  personality  into  his  business  deal  of  the  water  lots  and 
into  the  fascinating  downtown  life  of  the  pioneer  city.  The  mere 
fact  that  he  had  ended  that  asinine  Morrell  affair  somehow 
made  him  think  he  had  made  it  all  up  to  Nan,  and  he  settled 
back  tacitly  and  without  further  preliminaries  into  what  his 
mood  considered  a  most  satisfactory  domestic  basis.  That  is, 
he  took  his  home  and  his  home  We  for  granted.)  It  was  there 
when  he  needed  it.  j  He  admired  Nan  greatly,  and  supplied  her 
with  plenty  of  money,  and  took  her  to  places  when  he  could  get 
the  time.  Some  day,  when  things  were  not  quite  so  lively,  they 
would  go  somewhere  together.  In  the  meantime  he  never  failed 
to  ask  her  every  evening  if  she  had  enjoyed  herself  that  day;  and 
she  never  failed  to  reply  that  she  had.  Everything  was  most 
comfortable. 

After  the  Firemen's  Ball  Nan,  somehow  relieved  of  any 
definite  uneasiness,  felt  that  she  should  be  made  much  of, 
should  be  a  little  wooed,  that  Keith  should  make  up  a  little 
for  having  been  somewhat  of  a  naughty  boy.  When,  instead, 
she  was  left  more  alone  than  before,  she  was  hurt  and  depressed. 
Of  course,  Milton  did  not  realize — but  what  was  there  for  her? 
Wing  Sam  ran  the  house;  she  worked  a  good  deal  in  the  garden, 
assisted  by  Gringo.  Probably  at  no  time  in  modern  history  have 
wives  been  left  so  much  alone  and  so  free  as  during  this  period. 
The  man's  world  was  so  absorbing;  the  woman's  so  empty. 


152  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

Ben  Sansome  dropped  in  quite  often.  He  was  always  amus 
ing,  always  agreeable,  interested  in  all  sorts  of  things,  ready  to 
give  his  undivided  attention  to  any  sort  of  a  problem,  no  matter 
how  trivial,  to  consider  it  attentively,  and  to  find  for  it  a  fair 
and  square  deliberate  solution.  This  is  exceedingly  comforting 
to  the  feminine  mind.  He  taught  Gringo  not  to  "jump  up"; 
he  found  out  what  was  the  matter  with  the  Gold  of  Ophir  cut 
ting;  he  discovered  and  took  her  to  see  just  the  shade  of  hang 
ings  she  had  long  sought  for  the  blue  room.  Within  a  very  short 
time  he  had  established  himself  on  the  footing  of  the  casual  old- 
time  caller,  happening  by,  dropping  in,  commenting  and  advising 
detachedly,  drifting  on  again  before  his  little  visit  had  assumed 
rememberable  proportions.  He  had  always  the  air  of  just 
leaning  over  the  fence  for  a  moment's  chat;  yet  he  contrived  to 
spend  the  most  of  an  afternoon.  He  spoke  of  Keith  often,  al 
ways  in  affectionate  terms,  as  of  a  sort  of  pal,  much  as  though  he 
and  Nan  both  owned  him,  he,  of  course,  in  a  lesser  degree. 

One  afternoon,  after  he  had  actually  been  digging  away  at 
a  bulb  bed  for  half  an  hour,  Nan  suggested  that  he  come  in  for 
refreshment.  Gradually  this  became  a  habit.  Sansome  and 
Nan  sat  cozily  either  side  the  little  Chinese  tea  table.  He  visi 
bly  luxuriated. 

"  You  don't  know  what  a  privilege  this  is  for  me — for  any  lone 
some  bachelor  in  this  crude  city — to  have  a  home  like  this  to 
come  to  occasionally." 

He  hinted  at  his  situation,  but  made  of  its  details  a  dark 
mystery.  The  final  impression  was  one  of  surface  lightness  and 
gayety,  but  of  inner  sadness. 

"It  is  a  terrible  city  for  a  man  without  an  anchor!"  he 
said.  "Keith  is  a  lucky  fellow!  If  I  only  had  some  one,  as  he 
has,  I  might  amount  to  something."  A  gesture  implied  what  a 
discouraged. butterfly  sort  of  person  he  really  was. 

"You  ought  to  marry/'  said  Nan  gently. 

"Marry!"  he  cried.  "Dear  lady,  whom?  Where  in  this 
awful  mixture  they  call  society  could  one  find  a  woman  to 
marry?" 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  153 

"There  are  plenty  of  nice  women  here,"  chicled  Nan. 

"Yes^and  all  of  them  taken  by  luckier  fellows!  You 
wouldn't  have  me  marry  Sally  Warner,  would  you — or  any  of 
the  other  half-dozen  Sally  Warners?  I  might  as  well  marry 
a  gas  chandelier,  a  grand  piano,  and  a  code  of  immorals — but 
the  standard  of  such  women  is  so  different  from  the  standard 
of  women  like  yourself." 

Nan  might  pertinently  have  inquired  what  Ben  Sansome  did 
in  this  gallery,  anyhow;  but  so  cold-blooded  and  direct  an  at 
tack  would  have  required  a  cool  detachment  incompatible  with 
his  dark,  good  looks,  his  winning,  appealing  manners,  his  thought- 
fulness  in  little  things,  his  almost  helpless  reliance  on  her  sym 
pathy;  in  other  words,  it  presupposed  a  rather  cynical,  elderly 
person.  And  Nan  was  young,  romantic,  easily  stirred. 

"All  you  need  is  to  believe  in  yourself  a  little  more,"  she 
said  earnestly  and  prettily.  "Why  don't  you  undertake  some 
thing  instead  of  drifting?  Some  of  the  people  you  go  with 
are  not  especially  good  for  you — do  you  think  so?  " 

"Good  for  me?"  he  laughed  bitterly.  "\Vho  cares  if  I  go 
to  the  dogs?  They'd  rather  like  me  to;  it  would  keep  them 
company!  And  I  don't  know  that  I  care  much  myself!"  he 
muttered  in  a  lower  tone. 

She  leaned  forward,  distressed,  her  eyes  shining  with  expostu 
lation. 

"You  mustn't  hold  yourself  so  low,"  she  told  him  vehemently. 
"You  mustn't!  There  are  a  great  many  people  who  believe  in 
you.  For  their  sake  you  should  try.  If  you  would  only  be 
just  a  little  bit  serious — in  regard  to  yourself,  I  mean.  A  gay 
life  is  all  very  well " 

"Gay?"  he  interrupted,  then  caught  himself.  "Yes,  I  sup 
pose  I  do  seem  gay— God  knows  I  try  not  to  cry  out — but,  really, 
sometimes  I'm  near  to  ending  it  all " 

She  was  excited  to  a  panic  of  negation. 

"Oh,  no!  no!"  she  expostulated  vehemently.  ("Egad,  she's 
stunning  when  she's  aroused!"  thought  Sansome.)  "You 
mustn't  talk  like  that!  It  isn't  fair  to  yourself;  it  isn't  fair  to 


154  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

your  manhood!  Oh,  how  you  do  need  some  one  to  pull  you 
up !  If  I  could  only  help ! " 

He  raised  his  head  and  looked  directly  at  her,  his  dark, 
melancholy  eyes  lighting  slowly. 

"You  have  helped;  you  are  helping,"  he  murmured.  "I 
suppose  I  have  been  weak  and  a  coward.  I  will  try." 

"That's  right.  I  am  so  glad,"  she  said,  glowing  with  sweet 
ness  and  a  desire  to  aid.  "Now  you  must  turn  over  a  new 
leaf,"  she  hesitated.  "Every  way,  I  mean,"  she  added  with  a 
little  blush. 

"I  know  I  drink  more  than  I  ought,"  he  supplied  in  accents 
of  regret. 

"Don't  you  suppose  you  could  do  without?"  she  begged  very 
gently. 

"Will  you  help  me?"  He  turned  on  her  quickly;  then,  his 
delicate  instincts  perceiving  a  faint,  instinctive  recoil  at  his 
advance,  he  added:  "Just  let  me  come  here  occasionally,  into 
this  quiet  atmosphere,  when  it  gets  too  hard  and  I  can  see  no 
light;  just  to  get  your  help,  the  strength  I  shall  need  to  tide  me 
over." 

He  looked  very  handsome  and  romantic  and  young.  He  was 
apparently  very  deeply  in  earnest.  Nan  experienced  a  rush  of 
pity,  of  protective  maternal  emotion. 

"Yes,  do  come,"  she  assented  softly. 


XXIV 

AL  this  time  Keith  was  busy  every  minute  of  the  day. 
The  water-lot  matter  was  absorbing  all  his  attention. 
Through  skilful  and  secret  agents  Neil  had  acquired  a 
great  deal  of  scrip  issued  by  the  city  for  various  public  works 
and  services  which  the  holders  had  not  yet  exchanged  for  the 
new  bonds.  These  he  turned  over  to  Keith.  Very  quietly, 
by  prearrangement,  the  latter  sued  and  obtained  judgments. 
When  all  this  had  been  fully  accomplished — and  not  before 
then — the  veil  of  secrecy  was  rent.  Rowlee's  paper  advertised 
a  forthcoming  sale  of  water  lots  to  satisfy  the  judgments. 

Then  followed,  for  Keith,  an  anxious  period  of  three  days.  But 
at  the  end  of  that  time  the  commissioners  issued  a  signed  warning 
that  the  titles  conveyed  by  this  sale  would  not  be  considered 
legal.  On  seeing  this,  Keith  at  once  rushed  around  to  Neil's  office. 

"Here  it  is,"  he  announced  jubilantly.  "They  held  off  so 
long  that  I  began  to  be  afraid  they  did  not  intend  to  play  our 
game  for  us.  But  it's  all  right." 

The  matter  was  widely  discussed;  but  next  morning  placards, 
bearing  the  text  of  the  commissioners'  warning,  were  posted  on 
every  blank  wall  in  town  and  distributed  as  dodgers.  These 
were  attributed  by  the  public  to  zeal  on  the  part  of  those  offi 
cials;  but  the  commissioners  knew  nothing  about  it. 

"Some  anonymous  friend  of  the  city  must  have  done  it," 
Hooper  told  his  friends,  and  added,  "We  are  delighted!" 

The  unknown  friend  was  Malcolm  Neil  himself. 

This  warning  had  its  effect.  As  Keith  had  predicted,  no 
body  cared  to  put  good  money  into  what  was  officially  and 
authoritatively  announced  as  a  bad  title.  At  the^sheriff's  sale 
there  were  no  bona  fide  bidders  except  the  secret  agents  of 


156  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

Malcolm  Neil.  The  sheriff's  titles— such  as  they  were— went 
for  a  song.  Immediately  the  ostensible  purchasers  were  per 
sonally  warned  by  the  commission;  but  they  seemed  satisfied. 

So  matters  rested  until,  a  little  later,  the  commissioners  in 
serted  in  all  the  papers  the  customary  legal  advertisements 
setting  forth  a  sale  by  them,  under  the  State  law,  of  these  same 
water  lots  to  satisfy  the  interest  and  fill  the  sinking  fund  for 
the  bonds.  The  next  morning  appeared  a  statement  signed 
by  all  the  ostensible  purchasers  under  the  sheriff's  sale.  This 
stated  clearly  and  succinctly  the  intention  to  contest  any 
titles  given  by  the  commissioners,  even  to  the  highest  courts. 
This  was  marked  advt,  to  indicate  the  newspaper's  neutrality 
in  the  matter.  Rowlee  commented  on  the  situation  editorially. 
He  took  the  righteous  and  indignant  attitude,  expressing  ex 
treme  journalistic  horror  that  such  a  hold-up  should  be  possible 
in  a  modern,  civilized  community,  hurling  editorial  contempt 
on  the  dastardly  robbers  who  were  thus  intending  to  shake  down 
the  innocent  purchasers,  etc.  In  fact,  he  laid  it  on  thick.  But 
he  managed  to  insinuate  a  doubt.  Between  the  lines  the  least 
astute  reader  could  read  Rowlee's  belief  that  perhaps  these  first 
purchasers  might  have  a  case,  iniquitous  but  legal.  He  hammered 
away  at  this  for  a  week.  By  the  end  of  that  time  he  had,  by  the 
most  effective,  indirect  methods — purporting  all  the  time  to  be 
attacking  the  signers  of  the  warning — succeeded  in  instilling  into 
the  public  mind  a  substantial  distrust  of  the  stability  of  the  titles 
to  be  conveyed  at  the  commissioners'  sale.  Malcolm  Neil  com 
plimented  him  highly  at  their  final  and  secret  interview. 

Again  Keith's  predictions  were  fulfilled  to  the  letter.  No 
body  wanted  to  buy  a  lawsuit.  There  were  a  few  bidders,  it 
is  true,  but  they  were  faint  hearted.  Another  set  of  Malcolm's 
secret  agents  bid  all  the  lots  in  at  a  nominal  figure.  That  very 
afternoon  they  all  met  in  Neil's  stuffy  little  back  office.  Keith 
had  the  deeds  prepared.  All  that  was  necessary  was  to  affix 
the  signatures.  The  purchasers  under  both  sales  conveyed  their 
rights  to  Neil  and  Keith.  The  latter  now  possessed  uncontested 
and  incontestable  title. 


XXV 

HAVING  personally  delivered  the  deeds  to  the  recorder's 
office,  Keith  went  home.  In  the  relief  from  pressure, 
the  triumph,  and  the  exaltation,  his  instinct  carried  him 
to  the  actual  background  of  his  lif  e — his  genuine  but  preoccupied 
affection  for  Nan.  The  constraint,  that  had  been  so  real  to  her, 
had  never  been  anything  but  nebulous  to  him. 

He  burst  into  the  house,  capered  around  the  room  boyishly, 
seized  her,  and  waltzed  her  gayly  about.  Quite  taken  by  sur 
prise,  Nan's  first  thought  was  that  he  had  been  drinking  too 
much;  so  naturally  she  failed  to  rise  instantly  to  the  occasion. 

"Stop  it,  Milton!"  she  cried.  "What  has  got  into  you! 
You're  tearing  me  to  ribbons!" 

He  laughed  heartily. 

"You  must  think  I'm  crazy,"  he  acknowledged.  "Sit  down 
here,  and  learn  what  a  great  man  your  husband  is."  He  poured 
out  the  story  of  the  transaction,  omitting  no  details  of  the  clever 
schemes  by  which  it  had  been  worked.  He  was,  above  all, 
proud  of  his  legal  address  and  acumen — there  was  something 
in  Eastern  training,  after  all;  this  lay  right  under  their  noses, 
but  none  of  them  saw  it  until  he  came  along  and  picked  it  up. 
"And  there  are  some  pretty  smart  men  out  here,  too,  let  me  tell 
you  that,"  he  added.  "They're  from  all  parts  of  the  world,  and 
they've  had  a  hard  practical  education,  their  eye  teeth  are  cut!" 
His  egotism  over  being  keener  than  the  acknowledged  big  men 
was  very  fresh  and  charming.  The  money  gained  he  mentioned 
as  an  afterthought,  only  when  the  other  aspect  of  the  situation 
had  been  exhausted.  "The  cold  hard  dollars  are  pretty  wel 
come  just  now,"  he  told  her.  "There's  about  a  quarter  million 
in  those  lots — and  we  can  realize  on  all  or  part  of  them  at  any 


158  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

time.  All  came  out  of  here!"  He  tapped  his  forehead,  and 
paused  in  his  rapid  pacing  to  and  fro  to  look  down  at  her  in  the 
easy  chair.  "We  are  well  off  now.  We  needn't  scrimp  and 
save" — it  did  not  for  the  moment  occur  to  him  that  they  had 
not  been  doing  so — "I'm  going  to  get  you  eight  new  gowns,  and 
twelve  new  hats,  and  a  bushel  of  diamonds " 

"I'm  glad,  very  glad!"  she  cried,  catching  his  enthusiasm,  her 
mind  for  the  first  tune  occupying  itself  seriously  with  the 
mechanism  of  the  deal.  At  first,  when  he  had  been  explaining, 
she  had  not  thrown  off  the  impression  that  he  had  been  drinking, 
and  so  had  paid  little  attention  to  his  explanations.  "It  sounds 
like  magic.  Tell  me  again — how  you  did  it." 

Nothing  loath,  he  went  over  it  again,  making  clear  the  double 
clouding  of  the  titles. 

But  Nan,  being  much  alone,  had  the  habit,  shared  with  few 
women  of  that  time,  of  reading  the  newspapers.  She  had 
followed  Rowlee's  campaign,  and  she  had  taken  seriously  the 
editor's  diatribes.  Rowlee  had  been  talking  for  effect.  The 
ideals  of  ultimate  civic  honesty  were  yet  fifty  years  in  the 
future,  but  he  had  stumbled  on  their  principle.  Nan's  mind, 
untrained  in  any  business  ethics,  caught  them;  and  her  sure 
natural  instincts  had  accepted  their  essential  justice.  In  recog 
nizing  Milton's  connection  as  promoter  with  just  this  deal, 
she  was  suddenly  called  upon  to  make  adjustments  for  which 
there  was  no  time.  She  knew  Milton  would  do  nothing  wrong, 
and  yet— he  was  waiting  in  triumph  for  her  response. 

"It  was  very  clever.  And  yet,  somehow,  it  doesn't  sound 
right—  -"  she  puzzled.  "  Are  you  sure  it's  honest?  " 

"Honest? "  he  snorted,  halted  in  mid-career.  "Of  course  it's 
honest !  Why  isn't  it  honest?  " 

Confronted  with  the  direct  question,  she  really  did  not  know. 
She  groped,  proffering  tentatively  some  of  the  arguments  half 
remembered  from  Rowlee's  editorial  columns.  But  she  con 
fronted  now  a  lawyer,  sure  of  himself.  Keith  explosively  and 
contemptuously  demolished  her  contentions.  Everything  was 
absolutely  legal,  every  step  of  it.  If  a  man  hadn't  a  right  to  buy 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  159 

in  property  at  any  sale  and  sell  it  again  where  he  wanted,  where 
in  thunder  was  our  boasted  liberty?  Just  the  kind  of  fool  notion 
women  get !  Keith  in  his  honest  pride  and  triumph  had  come  for 
sympathy  and  admiration.  Turned  back  on  himself,  he  became 
vaguely  resentful,  and  shortly  left  the  house. 

Hardly  had  the  front  door  closed  after  him  when  Nan  burst 
into  tears.  She  had  not  meant  it  to  come  out  that  way  at  all.  Of 
course  she  had  had  no  real  thought  that  Milton  would  do  any 
thing  dishonest ;  how  absurd  of  him  to  take  it  that  way !  She  had 
simply  expressed  a  queer  instinctive  thought  that  had  flashed 
across  her  mind;  and  now  she  could  not  for  the  life  of  her  guess 
how  she  had  come  to  do  so.  Miserably  and  passionately  she 
realized  that  she  had  bungled  it. 


XXVI 

BUT  if  Keith  missed  the  appreciation  of  his  triumph 
at  home,  he  received  full  meed  of  it  downtown.  In 
a  corner  of  the  Empire  a  dozen  of  the  biggest  men  in 
town  were  gathered.  They  were  Sam  Brannan;  Palmer,  of 
Palmer,  Cook  &  Co.;  Colonel  E.  D.  Baker,  the  original  "silver- 
tongued  orator";  Dick  Blatchford,  the  contractor;  Judge  Terry, 
of  the  Supreme  Court;  oily,  coarse  Ned  McGowan;  Nugent  and 
Rowlee,  editors,  and  some  others.  They  were  doing  an  exceed 
ingly  important  part  of  their  daily  business:  sipping  their  late 
afternoon  cocktails.  Calhoun  Bennett  joined  them. 

"Little  item  of  news  to  interest  you-all,"  drawled  the 
Southerner.  "I've  just  come  down  from  the  recorder's  office. 
The  deeds  for  the  water  lots  have  just  been  recorded."  He 
paused. 

"Have  a  drink,  Cal,"  urged  Dick  Blatchford,  "and  sit  down. 
What  of  it?" 

"They  were  recorded  in  the  names  of  Malcolm  Neil  and  young 
Keith.  I'll  have  a  cocktail." 

"That  so?  Pretty  shaky  title.  Which  sale  did  they  record 
under?" 

"Both!  "said  Bennett. 

He  stood  until  he  saw  that  the  significance  of  this  had  soaked 
in;  then  he  drew  out  a  chair  and  sat  down.  Ned  McGowan 
chuckled  hoarsely. 

"  Pretty  slick ! "  said  he.  "  Wonder  some  of  us  didn't  think  of 
that!  I  suppose  they  went  around  and  scared  the  purchasers 
until  they  got  them  pretty  cheap.  Trust  old  Neil  to  drive  a 
bargain!" 

But  Palmer,  the  banker,  who  had  been  thinking,  here  spoke  up: 

Vi6o 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  161 

"The  purchasers  were  undoubtedly  their  agents/'  he  surmised 
quietly. 

"By  God,  you're  right!"  cried  Terry.  "Old  Malcolm  is 
certainly  the  devil  without  a  tail! " 

"Speak  of  him  and  you  get  him,"  remarked  Colonel  Baker, 
pointing  out  Neil,  who  had  just  entered. 

They  raised  a  shout  at  him,  until  finally  the  old  man,  re 
luctantly  and  crabbedly,  sidled  over  to  join  them. 

"You're  discovered,  old  fox!"  cried  Terry;  "and  the  outraged 
dignity  of  the  law  demands  a  drink." 

They  plied  him  with  half-facetious,  half-envious  congratu 
lations.  But  Neil  would  have  none  of  them. 

"Not  my  scheme,"  he  growled.  "Entirely  Keith's.  I'm  a 
sleeping  partner  only.  He  engineered  it  all,  thought  of  it  all, 
dragged  me  in." 

"You  must  have  made  a  good  thing  out  of  it,  Mr.  Neil," 
suggested  Palmer  respectfully. 

The  formidable  old  man  eyed  the  speaker  grumpily  for  a 
moment. 

"About  a  quarter  million,  cool,  between  us,"  he  vouchsafed 
finally.  Ks  was,  for  some  reason,  willing  to  brag  a  bit. 

This  statement  was  received  in  admiring  silence  by  all  but 
Terry.  Everybody  but  that  devil-may-care  and  lawless  pillar  of 
the  law  was  afraid  of  Neil.  But  Terry  would  joke  with  anybody. 

"I  hope  you're  going  to  let  him  have  a  little  of  it,  Neil,"  he 
laughed. 

The  old  man  shifted  his  eyes  from  Palmer  to  Terry  with  much 
the  air  of  restraining  heavy  guns.  Terry  met  the  impact  un 
troubled. 

"Judge,"  grunted  the  financier  at  last,  "that  young  man  will 
get  his  due  share.  He  has  tied  me  up  in  a  contract  that  even 
your  honoured  court  would  find  difficulty  in  breaking." 

With  this  parting  shot  he  arose  and  stumped  out. 

"If  Malcolm  Neil  acknowledges  he  is  tied  up,"  observed  Terry, 
who  had  not  been  in  the  slightest  degree  disturbed,  "he  is 
certainly  tied  up!" 


162  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

"Consider  the  man  who  tied  him,"  begged  Colonel  Baker. 
"He  must,  in  the  language  of  the  poets,  be  a  lallapaloozer." 

"He's  worth  getting  hold  of,"  said  Dick  Blatchford. 

Therefore,  when,  a  little  later,  Keith  appeared,  he  was  hailed 
jovially,  and  invited  to  drink.  Everybody  was  very  cordial. 
Within  five  minutes  he  was  hail  fellow  with  them  all,  joking  with 
the  most  august  of  them  on  terms  of  equality.  Judge  Terry,  in 
whose  court  he  had  stood  abashed,  plied  him  with  cocktails; 
Colonel  Baker  told  several  stories,  one  of  which  was  new;  Sam 
Brannan,  with  the  mixture  of  coarseness,  overbearing  manners, 
and  fascination  that  made  him  personally  attractive  to  men  and 
some  women,  called  him  "my  boy";  and  the  rest  of  the  party 
had  whole-heartedly  taken  him  in  and  were  treating  him  as  one 
of  themselves.  Keith  had  known  all  these  men,  of  course,  but 
they  had  been  several  cuts  above  him  in  importance,  and  his 
relations  with  most  of  them  had  been  formal.  His  whole  being 
glowed  and  expanded.  After  the  first  cocktail  or  two,  and  after 
a  little  of  this  grateful  petting,  he  had  some  difficulty  in  keeping 
himself  from  getting  too  expansive,  in  holding  himself  down 
to  becoming  modesty,  in  not  talking  too  much.  He  quite  real 
ized  the  meaning  of  this  sudden  cordiality;  but  he  welcomed  it 
as  another  endorsement,  from  the  highest,  most  unimpeachable 
sources,  of  his  cleverness  and  legal  acumen. 

They  drank  and  talked  until  twilight.  Then  Keith  began  to 
make  his  excuses.  They  shouted  him  down. 

"You're  going  to  dinner  with  us,  my  son,"  stated  Brannan. 
"They've  opened  an  oyster  palace  down  the  street,  and  we're 
going  to  sample  it." 

"  But  my  wife "  began  Keith. 

"Permit  me,"  interrupted  Terry,  bending  his  tall  form  in 
courtesy.  "I  am  about  to  dispatch  a  messenger  to  Mrs.  Terry, 
and  shall  be  pleased  to  instruct  him  to  call  at  your  mansion 
also." 

It  was  so  arranged.  Immediately  they  adjourned  to  the  new 
"Oyster  Palace,"  a  very  gaudy  white  and  gilt  monstrosity  with 
mirrors  and  negro  minstrels.  There  were  small  private  rooms, 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  163 

it  seemed,  and  one  of  these  was  bespoken  from  the  smiling 
manager,  flattered  at  the  patronage  of  these  substantial  men. 

San  Francisco  lived  high  in  those  days.  It  could  pay,  and  for 
pay  the  best  will  go  anywhere.  The  dinner  was  quite  perfect. 
There  were  more  cocktails  and  champagne.  Under  the  in 
fluence  of  good  fellowship  and  drinks,  Keith  was  finally  prevailed 
upon  to  give  the  details  of  the  whole  transaction.  Perhaps  this 
was  a  little  indiscreet,  but  he  was  carried  away  by  the  occasion. 
The  noisy  crowd  suddenly  became  quiet,  and  listened  with  the 
deepest  attention.  When  Keith  had  finished,  there  ensued  a 
short  silence.  Then  Judge  Terry  delivered  his  opinion. 

"  Sound  as  a  dollar,"  he  pronounced  at  last.  "  Not  a  hole  in  it. 
Is  that  your  opinion.  Colonel  Baker?" 

"  Clever  piece  of  work,"  nodded  the  orator  gravely. 

After  this  interim  of  sobriety  the  dinner  proceeded  more  and 
more  noisily.  The  drink  affected  the  different  men  in  different 
ways.  A  flush  appeared  high  on  the  cheek  bones  of  Terry's  lean 
face  and  an  added  dignity  in  his  courtly  manner.  Brannan 
became  louder  and  more  positive.  On  Blatchford  his  potations 
had  no  appreciable  effect  except  that  his  round  face  grew  redder. 
Ned  McGowan  dropped  even  his  veneer  of  good  breeding,  be 
came  foul  mouthed  and  profane,  full  of  unpublishable  reminis 
cence  to  which  nobody  paid  any  particular  attention.  Calhoun 
Bennett's  speech  became  softer,  more  deliberate,  more  con 
sciously  Southern.  Keith,  who  was  really  most  unaccustomed  to 
the  heavy  drinking  then  in  vogue,  was  filled  with  a  warm  and 
friendly  feeling  toward  everybody.  His  thoughts  were  a  bit 
vague,  and  he  had  difficulty  in  focussing  his  mind  sharply.  The 
lights  were  very  bright,  and  the  room  warm. 

Suddenly  they  were  all  in  the  open  air  under  the  stars.  There 
seemed  to  have  been  an  unexplained  interim.  Everybody  was 
smoking  cigars.  Keith  was  tugging  at  his  pocket  and  expostu 
lating  something  about  payment — something  to  do  with  the 
dinner.  Evidently  some  part  of  him  had  gone  on  talking  and 
thinking.  The  fresh  air  brought  him  back  to  the  command. 
Various  suggestions  were  being  proffered.  Blatchford  was  for 


164  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

hiring  rigs  and  driving  out  to  the  Mission;  Calhoun  Bennett 
suggested  the  El  Dorado;  but  Sam  Brannan's  bull  voice  decided 
them. 

"I'm  going  to  Belle's!"  he  roared,  and  at  once  started  off  up 
the  street.  The  idea  was  received  with  acclamation.  They 
straggled  up  the  street  toward  the  residential  portion  of  town. 

Keith  followed.  The  delayed  action  of  the  drink  had  thrown 
him  into  a  delicious  whirling  haze.  He  left  that  he  could  be 
completely  master  of  himself  at  any  moment  merely  by  making 
the  effort ;  only  it  did  not  at  present  seem  worth  while.  He  knew 
where  Belle's  was:  it  was  the  ornate  house  diagonally  across  the 
street  from  his  own,  the  one  concerning  which  the  clerk  had  been 
so  evasive  when  they  were  house  hunting. 

Belle's  was  a  three-story  frame  building,  differing  in  no  out 
ward  essential  from  the  fashionable  residences  around  it.  On 
warm  evenings  there  sometimes  came  through  the  opened 
windows  the  sound  of  a  piano,  the  clink  of  glasses,  loud  laughter 
or  singing.  The  chance  bystander  might  have  heard  identically 
the  same  from  any  other  house  in  the  neighbourhood.  Only 
Belle's  occasionally — rarely  occasionally — contributed  a  crash  or 
an  oath.  Such  things  were,  however,  quickly  hushed.  Belle's 
was  run  on  respectable  lines.  Men  went  in  and  out  quite  openly, 
with  the  tolerance  of  most,  but  to  the  scandal  of  a  few.  Those 
curious,  consulting  the  yellowed  files  of  the  newspapers,  can  read 
little  protests — signed  with  nom  de  plumes — from  young  women, 
complaining  that  young  men  of  their  acquaintance,  after  calling 
decorously  on  them,  would  cross  quite  openly  to  the  house  over 
the  way.  Yet  they  were  powerless,  for  a  year  or  so  at  least,  to 
break  up  the  custom. 

For  Belle's  was  a  carry-over  from  the  ^Q-'SI  days  when  of 
social  life  there  was  none  at  all.  It  differed  from  the  merely  dis 
reputable  house.  Belle  prided  herself  on  quiet  conduct  and 
many  friends.  In  person  she  was  a  middle-aged,  still  attractive 
Frenchwoman.  She  had  furnished  her  parlours  very  elaborately, 
and  she  insisted  that  both  her  employees  and  clients  should  be 
have  in  the  public  rooms  with  the  greatest  circumspection. 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  165 

Indeed,  a  casual  visitor,  unacquainted  with  the  character  of  the 
place,  might  well  have  been  deceived.  The  women  sitting  about 
were  made  up  and  very  decollete,  to  be  sure,  but  their  conduct, 
while  not  always  of  the  highest  tone,  was  nevertheless  quite 
devoid  of  freedom.  Belle  permitted  no  overt  word  or  action ;  nor 
was  any  visitor  subjected  to  another  expectation  than  the 
occasional  opening  of  a  bottle  of  wine  "for  the  good  of  the 
house." 

But  outside  of  the  one  fundamental  rule  of  decency,  the  caller 
could  make  himself  comfortable  in  his  own  way.  He  could 
lounge,  pound  the  piano,  joke,  play  games,  smoke  where  he 
pleased,  and  enjoy  what  was  then  a  rarity — the  company  and 
conversation  of  nimble-witted,  well-dressed,  beautiful  women 
whose  ideas  were  not  narrow.  Ultimate  possibilities  were 
always  kept  very  much  in  the  background,  but  that  there  were 
possibilities  made  for  present  relaxation  or  freedom. 

Twice  a  year  Belle  was  in  the  habit  of  giving  a  grand  party. 
The  invitations  were  engraved.  Entertainment  was  on  a 
sumptuous  scale.  There  were  dancing,  all  sorts  of  card  games,  an 
elaborate  supper,  the  best  of  music,  often  professional  enter 
tainers  of  great  merit.  Everything  was  free  except  wine. 
Nearly  the  whole  masculine  population  turned  out  for  Belle's  big 
party — judges,  legislators,  bankers,  merchants,  as  well  as  the 
professional  politicians  and  the  gamblers.  The  most  prominent 
men  of  the  city  frequented  Belle's  at  other  times  openly,  with 
out  fear  of  public  opinion — many  of  them  merely  for  the  sense  of 
freedom  and  relaxation  they  there  enjoyed.  Everybody  was 
welcome. 

Keith,  however,  knowing  the  character  of  the  place,  had  never 
been  inside  its  doors.  Now,  enveloped  in  his  rosy  haze,  exceed 
ingly  contented  with  his  company,  he  followed  where  they  led. 
At  the  door  a  neat  coloured  maid  relieved  him  of  his  hat  and  coat, 
and  smiled  a  welcome.  His  dazzled  vision  took  in  a  long  drawing- 
room,  soft  red  carpets,  red  brocade  curtains  of  heavy  material, 
with  edges  of  gold  f  ringe  and  with  gold  cords,  chandeliers  of  many 
dangling  prisms,  a  white  marble  mantel,  a  grand  piano,  a  few 


166  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

pictures  of  the  nude,  and  many  chairs.  Ravishingly  beautiful, 
wonderfully  dressed  women  sat  about  in  indolent  attitudes. 

The  hilarious  party  at  once  scattered  through  the  room. 
Calhoun  Bennett  went  to  the  piano  and  began  to  play  senti 
mental  airs.  Ned  McGowan,  his  face  very  red,  enthroned  him 
self  in  an  easy  chair,  clasping  girls  who  perched  on  either  arm. 
He  talked  to  them  in  a  low  voice.  They  leaned  over  to  hear, 
and  every  moment  or  so  they  burst  into  shrieks  of  laughter. 
Judge  Terry  was  listening  intently  to  some  serious  communica 
tion  Belle  herself  was  making  to  him.  Sam  Brannan  was  roaring 
for  champagne.  The  others  were  circulating  here  and  there, 
talking,  playing  practical  jokes.  Altogether,  to  Keith's  rosy 
vision,  a  colourful  and  delightful  scene.  Nobody  paid  him  the 
least  attention. 

How  long  he  stood  there  he  did  not  know.  The  groups 
before  him  shifted  and  changed  confusedly.  The  lights  seemed 
to  blaze  and  to  dim,  and  then  to  blaze  again.  After  a  long 
interval  he  became  aware  of  a  touch  on  his  arm.  He  looked 
down.  A  piquant,  dark-eyed,  tilt-nosed  girl  was  smiling  up  at 
"him. 

"  Wat  you  do?  "  she  was  begging.     "  You  come  wiz  me?  " 

He  focussed  his  attention  on  the  room.  It  was  almost  empty. 
He  saw  the  back  of  Judge  Terry  disappearing  into  the  street. 
He  passed  his  hand  across  his  eyes. 

"Where  are  the  others?"  he  asked  confusedly. 

She  laughed  with  significance.  Jle  looked  down  at  her 
again.  Her  complexion  was  a  sort  of  dead  white,  her  lips  were 
red  and  glistening,  her  eyes  were  darkened.  He  turned  sud 
denly  and  left  the  house.  The  coloured  maid,  disappointed  in  a 
tip,  stood  in  the  doorway,  his  hat  and  coat  in  her  hands,  staring 
after  him.  The  cool  air  a  little  cleared  his  brain.  He  stopped 
short  in  the  middle  of  the  street,  trying  to  collect  himself. 

"I'm  drunk,"  he  solved  finally,  and  proceeded  very  carefully 
toward  his  own  house.  After  each  dozen  steps  he  paused  to  col 
lect  his  thoughts  before  proceeding.  In  one  of  these  pauses  he 
distinctly  heard  a  window  slam  shut;  there  were  plenty  of 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  167 

louder  things,  he  heard  only  the  window.  He  hadn't  the 
least  idea  of  the  time  of  night,  except  that  it  must  be  very  late. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  was  not  more  than  .half-past  ten.  Near 
his  own  gate  he  nearly  ran  into  a  woman  strolling.  With  some 
instinct  of  apology,  he  turned  in  her  direction.  As  his  bare  head 
was  revealed  in  the  dim  light,  the  woman  uttered  a  low  laugh. 

"And  was  Belle  as  charming  as  ever?"  demanded  Mrs. 
Morrell  sweetly  but  icily.  "  Go  in  carefully  now,  so  dear  little 
wifey  won't  know." 

She  laughed  again  and  moved  past  him.  He  stared  after 
her  with  a  vague  sense  of  injustice,  somehow;  then  went  on. 


XXVII 

KSITH  was  sorry  next  morning,  but  he  was  not  repentant, 
in  the  sense  of  feeling  that  he  had  done  anything  fatally 
wrong.  He  was  disgusted  with  himself.  He  wasted 
no  regrets,  but  did  register  a  very  definite  intention  not  to 
let  that  happen  again!  It  was  all  harmless  enough,  once  in  a 
way,  but  it  was  not  his  sort  of  thing.  Nan  would  not  under 
stand  it  a  bit — why  should  she?  His  head  ached,  and  he  was 
feeling  a  little  conscience-stricken  about  Nan,  anyway.  He  must 
take  her  around  more,  see  more  of  her.  Business  had  been  very 
absorbing  lately,  but  now  that  this  deal  had  been  brought  off 
successfully,  it  was  only  due  her  and  himself  that  he  take  a 
little  time  off.  In  his  present  mood  he  convinced  himself, 
as  do  most  American  business  or  professional  men,  that  he  was 
being  driven  in  his  work,  and  that  he  wanted  nothing  better 
than  a  let-up  from  the  grind.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  he — and 
they — love  their  work. 

In  this  frame  of  mind  he  started  downtown  rather  late.  On 
the  street  he  met  a  number  of  his  friends.  A  good  many  of 
them  chaffed  him  good-naturedly  about  the  night  before.  By 
the  time  he  reached  his  office  he  was  feeling  much  better. 
Things  were  assuming  more  of  an  everyday  comfortable  aspect. 
He  had  not  been  seated  ten  minutes  before  Dick  Blatchford 
drifted  in,  smoking  a  black  cigar  that  gave  Keith  a  slight  qualm 
ish  feeling.  Dick  seemed  quite  unaffected  by  the  evening 
before. 

"Hullo,  Milt!"  he  boomed,  rolling  his  heavy  form  into  a 
chair,  his  round,  red  face  beaming.  "How's  the  wild  Injin  this 
morning?  Say,  you're  a  wonder  when  you  get  started!  You 
needn't  deny  it;  wasn't  I  there?"  He  shook  his  head,  chuck- 

168 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  169 

ling  fatly.  "Look  here,"  he  went  on,  "I'm  busy  this  morn 
ing — got  to  get  down  to  North  Beach  to  see  Harry  Meigs — and 
I  guess  you  are."  He  tossed  over  a  package  of  papers  that 
he  produced  from  an  inside  pocket.  "Look  those  over  at  your 
leisure.  I  think  we  better  sue  the  sons  of  guns.  Let  me  know 
what  you  think."  He  fished  about  in  a  tight-drawn  waist 
coat  pocket  with  a  chubby  thumb  and  forefinger,  pulled  out  a 
strip  of  paper,  and  flipped  it  to  Keith  as  casually  as  though  it 
were  a  cigarette  paper.  "There's  a  little  something  as  a 
retainer,"  said  he.  "  Well,  be  good ! " 

After  he  had  lumbered  out,  Keith  examined  the  check.  It 
was  for  one  thousand  dollars.  If  anything  were  needed  to 
restore  his  entire  confidence  in  himself,  this  retainer  would 
have  sufficed.  The  little  spree  was  regrettable,  of  course,  but 
it  had  brought  him  a  client — and  a  good  one! 

Two  days  later  Keith,  who  now  had  reason  to  spend  more 
time  in  his  office,  received  another  and  less  welcome  visitor: 
this  was  Morrell.  The  young  Englishman,  his  clean-cut  face 
composed  to  wooden  immobility,  his  too-close-set  eyes  squinting 
watchfully,  came  in  as  though  on  a  social  call. 

"Just  dropped  around  to  look  at  your  diggin's,"  he  told  the 
surprised  Keith.  "Not  badly  fixed  here;  good  light  and 
all." 

He  accepted  a  cigar,  and  sat  for  some  moments,  his  hat 
and  stick  carefully  disposed  on  his  knees. 

"Look  here,  Keith,"  he  broke  into  a  desultory  chat  after 
a  few  minutes.  "Deucedly  awkward,  and  all  that,  of  course; 
but  I've  been  wondering  whether  you  would  be  willing  to  tide 
me  over — remittances  late,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  Stony 
for  the  moment.  Everything  lovely  when  the  mails  arrive. 
Neighbours,  see  a  lot  of  each  other,  and  that  sort,  you  know." 

Keith  was  totally  unprepared  for  this,  and  floundered. 
Morrell,  watching  him  calmly,  went  on: 

"Of  course  I  wouldn't  think  of  coming  to  you,  old  chap — 
plenty  of  people  glad  to  bank  for  me  temporarily — but  I  wanted 
you  to  know  just  how  we  stand — Mrs.  Morrell  and  I — that  we 


i7o  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

feel  friendly  to  you,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  you  know! 
You  can  rely  on  us — no  uneasiness,  you  know." 

"Why,  that's  very  kind  of  you,"  returned  Keith,  puzzled. 

"Not  a  bit!  The  way  I  looked  at  it  was  that  a  chap  wouldn't 
borrow  from  a  man  he  wasn't  friendly  with.  It  isn't  done." 
He  laughed  his  high,  cackling  laugh.  "  So  I  said  to  Mimi,  'the 
dear  man  must  be  worryin'  his  head  off.'  It  was  lucky  for  you, 
old  top,  that  a  woman  of  the  world  with  some  sense  saw  you 
the  other  night  instead  of  some  feather-headed  gossipin'  fool. 
But  Mimi's  not  that." 

Keith  was  slowly  beginning  to  suspect,  but  as  yet  he  con 
sidered  his  suspicion  unjust. 

"How  much  do  you  need?"  he  asked. 

"Five  hundred  dollars,"  replied  Morrell  coolly. 

"I  doubt  I  have  that  sum  free  in  ready  cash." 

Morrell  looked  him  in  the  eye. 

"I  fancy  you  will  be  able  to  raise  it,"  he  said  very  deliberately. 

The  men  looked  at  each  other. 

"This  is  blackmail,  then,"  said  Keith,  without  excitement. 

Morrell  became  very  stiff  and  English  in  manner. 

"Words  do  not  frighten  me,  sir.  This  is  a  personal  loan. 
It  is  an  action  between  friends,  just  as  my  silence  on  the  sub 
ject  of  your  peccadillo  is  a  friendly  action.  I  mention  that 
silence,  not  as  a  threat,  but  as  an  evidence  of  my  own  friendly 
feeling.  I  see  I  have  made  a  mistake." 

He  arose,  his  bearing  very  frigid.  Keith  was  naturally  not 
in  the  least  deceived  by  this  assumption  of  injured  innocence, 
but  he  had  been  thinking. 

"Hold  on!"  he  said.  "You  must  forgive  my  being  startled; 
and  you  must  admit  you  were  a  little  unfortunate  in  your 
presentation.  For  this  loan,  what  security?  " 

"My  personal  note,"  replied  Morrell  calmly. 

"  I  must  look  into  my  resources.  I  will  let  you  know  to-mor 
row." 

"Not  later  than  to-morrow.  I'll  call  at  this  hour,"  said  Mor 
rell  with  meaning. 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  171 

After  the  Englishman  had  gone  Keith  considered  the  matter 
at  leisure.  Although  of  a  sanguine  and  excitable  temperament 
when  only  little  things  were  involved,  he  was  clear  headed  and 
uninfluenced  by  personal  feeling  in  real  emergencies. 

First,  would  the  Morrells  carry  out  the  implied  threat?  His 
instinct  supplied  that  answer.  Of  Morrell  himself  he  had  never 
had  any  trust.  Now  he  remembered  what  had  never  really 
struck  him  before:  that  Morrell,  even  in  this  fast  and  loose 
society,  had  never  been  more  than  tolerated,  and  that,  appar 
ently,  only  because  of  the  liveliness  of  his  wife.  He  had  the 
indefinable  air  of  a  bad  'un.  And  Keith's  knowledge  of  women 
was  broad  enough  to  tell  him  that  Mrs.  Morrell  would  be  re 
lentless. 

Second,  would  a  denial  avail  against  their  story?  His  com- 
monsense  told  him  that  if  the  Morrells  started  this  thing 
they  would  carry  it  through  to  a  finish.  There  was  no  sense 
in  it  otherwise,  for  such  an  attack  would  mean  the  burning  of 
most  of  their  social  bridges.  Morrell  could  get  witnesses  from 
Belle's — say,  the  coloured  maid  whom  he  had  not  tipped — 
and  there  were  his  hat  and  coat. 

Third,  could  he  afford  to  let  them  tell  the  tale?  As  far  as 
his  position  in  the  city,  either  professionally  or  socially,  most 
decidedly  yes.  But  at  home,  as  decidedly  no.  In  her  calm 
est,  most  judicial,  trusting,  loving  mood,  Nan  could  never 
understand.  Her  breeding  and  upbringing  were  against  it. 
She  could  never  comprehend  the  difference  between  such  a 
place  as  Belle's  and  any  disreputable  house — if  there  was  a 
difference.  This  point  needed  little  argument. 

Then  he  must  pay. 

Having  definitely  decided  this,  he  repressed  his  natural  in 
clinations  toward  anger,  drew  the  money,  laid  it  aside  in  his 
drawer,  and  went  on  with  his  work.  When  Morrell  came  in 
next  morning,  very  easy  and  debonair,  he  handed  out  the  gold 
pieces  and  took  in  return  the  man's  note,  without  relaxing  the 
extreme  gravity  and  formality  of  his  manner. 

"Thanks,  old  chap!"  cried  MorreU.  "You've  saved  my  life. 


172  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

I  won't  forget."  He  paused;  then  cackled  harshly:  "Good  joke 
that!  No,  /  won't  forget!" 

Keith  bowed  coldly,  waiting.  Morrell,  with  a  final  cackle, 
made  leisurely  for  the  door.  As  he  laid  his  hand  on  the  knob, 
Keith  spoke: 

"By  the  way,  Morrell." 

Morrell  turned. 

"Take  care  you  don't  overdo  this,"  advised  Keith  very  de 
liberately. 

Morrell  examined  him.  Keith's  face  was  grim.  He  smiled 
enigmatically. 

"Tact  is  a  blessed  gift,  old  top,"  said  he,  and  went  out. 


XXVIII 

THIS  whole  episode  proved  to  be  a  turning-point  in  Keith's 
career.  His  revulsion  against  the  feminine — hence 
society — side  of  life  brought  about  by  the  affair  of 
Mrs.  Morrell,  might  soon  have  passed,  and  he  might  soon  have 
returned  to  the  old  round  of  picnics,  excursions,  dinners,  and 
parties,  were  it  not  that  coincidentally  a 'new  and  absorbing 
occupation  was  thrust  upon  him.  Dick  Blatchford's  case  was 
only  one  of  many  that  came  to  him.  He  became  completely 
immersed  in  the  fascinating  intricacies  of  the  law. 

As  has  been  previously  pointed  out,  nowhere  before  nor  since 
has  pure  legality  been  made  such  a  fetish.  It  was  a  game  played 
by  lawyers,  not  an  attempt  to  get  justice  done.  Since,  in  all 
criminal  cases  at  least,  the  prosecution  was  carried  on  by 
one  man  and  his  associates,  poorly  paid  and  hence  of  mediocre 
ability,  and  the  defence  conducted  by  the  keenest  brains  in 
the  profession,  it  followed  that  convictions  were  rare.  Homi 
cide  in  various  forms  was  little  frowned  upon.  Duels  were 
of  frequent  occurrence,  and,  in  several  instances,  regular 
excursions,  with  tickets,  were  organized  to  see  them.  Street 
shootings  of  a  more  informal  nature  were  too  numerous 
to  count.  Invariably  an  attempt,  generally  successful,  was 
made  to  arrest  the  homicide.  If  he  had  money,  he  hired  the 
best  lawyers,  and  rested  secure.  If  he  had  no  money,  he  disap 
peared  for  a  time.  Almost  everybody  had  enough  money,  or 
enough  friends  with  money,  to  adopt  the  former  course.  Of 
1,200  murders — or  "killings" — committed  in  the  San  Fran 
cisco  of  those  days,  there  was  just  one  legal  conviction ! 

It  was  a  point  of  professional  pride  with  a  lawyer  to  get  his 
client  free.  Indeed,  to  fail  would  be  equivalent  to  losing  a 


174  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

very  easy  game.  The  whole  battery  of  technical  delays,  de 
murrers,  etc.,  was  at  his  command;  a  much  larger  battery  than 
even  the  absurd  criminal  courts  of  our  present  day  can  muster. 
Delays  to  allow  the  dispersal  of  witnesses  were  easily  arranged 
for,  as  were  changes  of  venue  to  courts  either  prejudiced  in 
favour  of  the  strict  interpretation  of  "law"  or  frankly  venal. 
Of  shadier  expedients,  such  as  packing  juries,  there  seemed  no 
end. 

Your  honourable,  high-minded  lawyers — which  meant  the 
well-dressed  and  prosperous — had  nothing  to  do  with  such 
dirty  work;  that  is,  directly.  There  were  plenty  of  lawyers 
not  so  honourable  and  high  minded  called  in  as  "counsel." 
These  little  lawyers,  shoulder  strikers,  bribe  givers  and  takers, 
were  held  in  good-humoured  contempt  by  the  legal  stars — who 
employed  them!  Actual  dishonesty  was  diluted  through  a  num 
ber  of  men.  Packing  a  jury  was  a  fine  art.  Initially  was  needed 
connivance  at  the  sheriff's  office.  Hence  lawyers,  as  a  class, 
were  in  politics.  Neither  the  stellar  lawyer  nor  the  sheriff 
knew  any  of  the  details  of  the  transaction.  A  sum  of  money 
went  to  the  former's  "counsel"  as  expenses,  and  emerged,  con 
siderably  diminished,  in  the  sheriff's  office  as  "perquisites." 
It  had  gone  from  the  counsel  to  somebody  like  Mex  Ryan,  from 
him  to  various  plug-uglies,  ward  heelers,  shoulder  strikers, 
from  them  to  one  or  another  of  the  professional  jurymen,  and 
then  on  the  upward  curve  through  the  sheriff's  underlings  who 
made  out  the  jury  lists  to  Webb  himself.  The  thing  was  done. 

In  this  tortuous  way  many  influences  were  needed.  The 
most  honest  lawyer's  limit  as  to  the  queer  things  he  would  do 
depended  on  his  individual  conscience.  It  is  extraordinary 
what  long  training  and  the  moral  support  of  a  whole  profession 
will  do  toward  educating  a  conscience.  Do  not  despise  unduly 
the  lawyers  of  that  day.  We  have  all  of  us  good  friends  in 
the  legal  profession  who  will  defend  in  court  a  criminal  they 
know  to  be  guilty  as  charged.  They  will  urge  that  no  man 
should  go  undefended;  and  will  argue  themselves  into  a  belief 
that  in  such  a  case  "defence"  means  not  merely  fair  play,  but 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  175 

a  desperate  effort  to  get  him  off  anyhow — trained  conscience. 
If  such  sophistries  are  sincerely  believed  by  honest  men  nowa 
days,  it  cannot  be  wondered  at  that  queerer  sophistries  passed 
current  in  a  community  not  five  years  old.  It  was  difficult  to 
draw  the  line  between  the  men  who  mistakenly  believed  them 
selves  honest  and  those  who  knew  themselves  dishonest. 

But  once  in  politics  there  could  be  no  end.  In  this  field 
the  law  rubbed  shoulders  with  big  contracts,  big  operations. 
A  city  was  being  built,  in  a  few  years,  out  of  nothing,  by  a 
busy,  careless,  and  shifting  population.  The  opportunities 
for  making  money  on  public  works — either  honestly  or  by  job 
bery — were  almost  unlimited.  The  mood  of  the  times  was 
extravagant.  From  the  still  unexhausted  placers  poured  a  flood 
of  gold,  hard  money,  tangible  wealth;  and  a  large  percentage  of 
it  paused  in  San  Francisco,  changed, hands  before  continuing 
its  journey.  Immigrants  brought  with  them  a  lesser  but  still 
significant  sum.  Money  was  easy.  People  could  and  would 
pay  high  taxes  without  a  thought,  for  they  would  rather  pay 
well  to  be  let  alone  than  bother  with  public  affairs.  The  city 
treasury  should  have  been  full  to  bursting.  In  addition,  the 
municipality  was  rich  in  its  real  estate.  The  value  of  all 
land  had  gone  up  immensely;  any  tune  more  cash  was  needed 
it  could  quickly  be  raised  by  the  sale  of  public  lots.  The  supply 
seemed  inexhaustible. 

Like  hyenas  to  a  kill  the  public  contractors  gathered.  Im 
mense  public  works  were  undertaken  at  enormous  prices. 
Paving,  sewers,  grading,  filling,  lighting,  wharves,  buildings 
were  all  voted;  and  the  work  completed  in  the  quickest,  flimsi 
est,  most  slipshod  fashion;  and  at  terrible  prices.  The 
Graham  House,  a  pretentious  frail  structure  that  had  failed  as  a 
hotel  because  a  swamp  lay  between  it  and  the  city,  was  bought 
at  a  huge  price  to  serve  as  city  hall.  It  was  a  veritable  white 
elephant,  and  even  the  busy  populace  spared  time  to  grumble 
at  the  flagrant  steal.  Nobody  knew  what  it  would  cost  to 
make  the  thing  habitable  even.  Soon,  to  every  one's  relief,  it 
burned  down.  The  property  was  then  swindled  over  to  Peter 


176  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

Smith.  The  Jenny  Lind  Theatre,  an  impossible,  ramshackle 
structure,  was  purchased  over  the  vigorous  protest  of  every  de 
cent  citizen,  for  the  enormous  sum  of  $300,000.  Another 
$100,000  was  alleged  to  have  been  spent  in  remodelling  and 
furnishing  it.  Then  it  was  solemnly  declared  "unsuited  to  the 
purpose."  It  also  burned  down  in  one  of  the  numerous  fires. 
But  the  money  was  safe! 

To  get  such  deals  as  these  through  "legally"  it  was  of  course 
necessary  that  officials,  councilmen,  engineers,  etc.,  should  be 
sympathetic.  Naturally  the  big  operators,  as  well  as  the  big 
lawyers,  had  to  go  into  politics.  Elections  came  soon  to  be  so 
many  farces.  In  some  wards  no  decent  citizen  dared  show  his 
face.  "Shoulder  strikers"  were  openly  hired  for  purposes  of 
intimidation.  Bribery  was  scarcely  concealed.  And  if  things 
looked  doubtful,  there  were  always  the  election  inspectors  and 
judges  in  reserve  who  could  be  relied  upon  to  make  things  come 
out  right  in  the  final  count.  The  proper  men  were  always  re 
turned  as  elected.  If  violence  or  fraud  were  alleged,  lawyers  al 
ways  got  the  accused  off  in  a  strictly  legal  manner. 

In  these  matters,  it  must  be  repeated,  no  opprobrium  ever 
rested  on  either  the  big  lawyers  or  the  big  operators.  "Ex 
penses"  went  to  the  underlings,  and  after  some  mysterious  sub 
terranean  manipulation,  of  which  the  big  fellows  remained 
blandly  unconscious,  results  came  back. 

In  the  world  of  public  works  Keith  rapidly  made  himself  a 
position.  He  was  leading  counsel  for  Dick  Blatchford  and  one 
or  two  others.  His  job  was  to  know  all  the  rules  of  the  game 
so  well  that  there  were  no  comebacks;  to  set  the  machinery  in 
motion  by  which  the  contracts  were  procured;  and  to  straighten 
out  any  irregularities  that  might  arise  afterward.  His  position 
was  almost  academic.  The  matters  he  fought  and  decided 
were  so  detached  from  actuality,  as  far  as  he  was  concerned, 
that  they  might  have  been  hypothetical  cases.  When  Dick 
wanted  anything  specific,  Keith  instructed  Patsy  Corrigan  to 
see  that  the  proper  officials  awarded  the  contract.  If  the  mat 
ter  ever  came  to  the  courts,  Keith  furnished  the  brains  and  Patsy 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  177 

somehow  "saw"  the  sheriff  and  whoever  was  necessary  from 
the  mysterious  underworld.  Everybody  was  doing  the  same 
thing.  In  the  minds  of  men  profits  of  any  sort  were  legitimate 
provided  they  were  "legal,"  but  especially  against  so  vague  an 
entity  as  a  community.  Civic  consciousness  had  not  been  born 
in  them,  for  the  simple  reason  that  the  city  was  constituted  per 
fectly  to  suit  them.  Only  when  men  are  dissatisfied  with  their 
government  do  they  seek  to  become  responsible  for  it.  There 
was  no  active  public  opinion  against  them.  Men  were  too 
busy  to  bother  with  such  things.  Occasionally  a  fairly  vigor 
ous  protest  against  some  peculiarly  outrageous  steal  m.ade  it 
self  heard,  but  the  men  who  made  it  were  either  cranks  or  it 
was  suspected  they  had  been  pinched  in  some  way.  They 
merely  represented  the  opposition  any  active  man  expects. 

And  every  last  one  of  these  merry,  jovial  pirates  was  inordi 
nately  proud  of  the  ship  he  was  helping  to  scuttle!  That  one 
fact,  attentively  considered,  explains  much. 

The  city  was  growing,  it  was  taking  on  a  permanent  character. 
In  spite  of  waste,  shoddy  work,  and  frequent  fires,  its  vitality 
was  triumphant.  The  sand  hills  had  all  been  graded  flat,  and 
the  material  from  them  had  filled  in  the  water  lots  of  the  bay; 
miles  of  fireproof  brick  structures  had  been  built  on  four  or  five 
streets;  there  were  now  a  half  score  of  long  wharves  instead  of 
one;  omnibuses  ran  everywhere;  fine  steamers  plied  to  fashion 
able  watering  places  about  the  bay  ;lhe  planks  in  the  streets  were 
being  replaced  by  cobblestones;  telegraph  service  had  been  in 
augurated  to  San  Jose  and  Sacramento;  several  new  theatres  had 
been  built;  gas  lamps  were  being  placed  about  the  streets;  huge 
wooden  palaces  with  much  scrollwork  ornamentation  were 
being  built  on  Stockton  Street  and  the  Rincon  Hill.  All  these 
things,  as  well  as  the  climate,  the  mines,  the  agricultural  re 
sources,  the  commerce,  the  scenery,  were  fully  appreciated  and 
enthusiastically  made  the  most  of  by  every  mother's  son.  Any 
man  among  them  was  ready  at  a  moment's  notice  to  wax  en 
thusiastic  about  the  resources  and  the  future  of  the  place.  They 
were  "boosters"  in  the  modern  acceptation  of  the  term. 


XXIX 

IN  THIS  eager,  fast-living,  nervous,  high-strung  man's  world 
Keith  took  to  himself  a  prominent  part.  He  was  so  fully 
occupied  in  other  directions  that  his  practice  did  not  lead 
him  into  criminal  law,  so  he  missed  an  influence  that  must  have 
either  ended  by  blunting  or  repelling  him.  He  corresponded  to 
what  nowadays  would  be  called  a  corporation  lawyer.  His 
clients  were  few,  but  wealthy,  powerful,  and  remunerative;  his 
cases  were  subtle  and  hard  fought.  He  enjoyed  the  intricate 
game  for  its  own  sake,  and  he  enjoyed  his  success  in  it.  In  the 
inevitable  give  and  take  of  a  complicated  world  he  knew,  of 
course,  of  shady  doings  beneath;  but  he  was  not  personally  in 
volved;  he  accepted  them  as  part  of  the  make-up  of  society, 
human  nature,  the  medium  of  work. 

But  Nan  was  necessarily  left  more  and  more  to  her  own 
devices.  And,  further,  she  was  left  alone  without  even  the  pre 
occupation  furnished  her  domestic  side  by  such  an  affair  as  that 
with  Mrs.  Morrell.  She  knew  that  Keith  was  wholly  absorbed  in 
his  business.  She  was  loyal  to  his  unexpressed  idea  that  in  these 
propitious  beginnings  he  must  devote  all  his  energies  to  his 
career.  She  was  loyal  to  his  preoccupation.  It  was  the  only 
way  in  which  she  could  help.  And  yet,  without  being  given 
cause  for  grievance,  she  was  temporarily  thrust  outside  his  life, 
put  in  cold  storage,  as  it  were,  until  she  should  be  wanted.  He 
bolted  immediately  after  breakfast;  often  he  did  not  come  home 
to  lunch;  was  quite  likely  to  go  out  again  in  the  evening. 

It  followed  that  Nan  had  to  make  her  own  life  out  of  the 
materials  at  hand.  This  was  at  first  difficult,  for  all  the  ma 
terials  were  novel  to  her.  Gradually,  however,  she  fitted  herself 
into  the  social  transformation  that  was  taking  place. 

178 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  179 

Heretofore,  society  had  not  existed.  Now,  vaguely,  it  was 
beginning  to  take  coherence  and  form.  A  transition  period  was 
on.  The  "nobs"  were  evolving  from  chaos.  People  of  the  fast 
Morrell  type  were  losing  their  influence  and  ascendency,  were 
being  pushed  aside  to  the  fringes  by  the  more  "solid"  elements. 
Wealth  and  arrogant  dignity  were  coming  into  their  innings. 
Formal  functions,  often  on  an  elaborate  scale,  were  taking  the 
place  of  the  harum-scarum  informal  parties.  There  came  up 
some  questions  of  social  leadership.  In  short,  social  life  was 
developing  into  the  usual  game.  Lacking  other  interests,  Nan 
found  it  amused  her  to  play  at  it,  to  contend  with  the  leaders,  to 
form  alliances,  to  declare  war,  to  assume  by  right  and  talent  her 
place  among  the  best. 

This  pleased  Keith.  Social  standing  helped  him  in  business; 
and  he  enjoyed  the  sight  of  his  beautiful  young  wife  queening  it 
serenely  over  the  city's  best.  He  was  always  eager  to  advance 
money  for  new  gowns  or  expensive  parties.  At  first  he  went  out 
with  her,  but  soon  found  that  three  o'clock  in  the  morning  meant 
a  next  day's  brain  dulled  of  its  keenest  edge.  But  he  would  not 
hear  of  her  staying  at  home  on  his  account. 

"I'm  tired,  and  I'm  going  to  bed  right  awray,"  he  told  her. 
"You  go  and  uphold  the  splendour  of  the  family.  Get  Ben  to 
take  you." 

Ben  Sansome  was  to  Keith  a  tremendous  convenience.  He 
was  the  only  idle  man  in  town,  always  on  tap,  ready  to  stay  out 
any  and  every  night  until  the  cocks  crowed.  Why  shouldn't  he? 
He  had  nothing  to  do  all  next  day,  except,  perhaps,  to  decide 
which  stick  he  should  carry !  With  a  busy  man's  good-humoured 
contempt  for  the  mere  idler,  Keith  looked  upon  Sansome  as  a 
harmless  household-pet  sort  of  person;  good  natured,  accom 
modating,  pleasant  to  talk  to,  good  looking,  foppish  in  dress,  but 
beneath  any  serious  human  being's  notice.  Sansome  was  on 
easy  terms  of  intimacy  with  the  Keiths.  It  was  mighty  good  of 
him  to  look  out  for  Nan.  If  he  did  not,  Keith  would  have  to. 

In  this  formative  period  Ben  Sansome  was,  however,  a  very 
important  figure  in  the  woman's  world.  Social  construction 


180  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

was  a  ticklish  matter.  There  were  so  many  things  to  be  decided : 
small  items  of  etiquette,  the  "proper  thing"— procedure,  deco 
rations,  good  form,  larger  matters  as  to  whether  so-and-so  should 
be  received,  and  if  so,  how  extensively.  Ben  Sansome  was  past 
master  of  such  things.  He  was  the  only  man  in  town  who  knew 
—or  cared— how  to  "draw  lines."  He  became  truly  a  modern 
arbiter  elegantiamm.  For  San  Francisco  had  begun  in  real 
earnest  to  "draw  lines." 

They  were  rather  strange  lines  at  times.  Of  course  such 
people  as  the  Brannans,  Montgomerys,  Terrys,  Bushs,  Bakers, 
Caldwells,  and  other  "old  families"  (three  or  four  years  old), 
went  without  saying.  Also  were  included  the  greater  merchants 
and  their  feminine  representatives,  such  as  Palmer,  Cook,  Adams, 
Wilkins,  and  the  like.  Also  there  seemed  to  be  a  solid  foundation 
of  those  respectable  and  powerful  with  plenty  of  wealth — "but 
hopeless,  my  dear,  absolutely  hopeless!"  groaned  some  of  the 
livelier  members. 

Lightning  struck  capriciously  at  those  on  whom  this  new 
society  might  frown,  on  those  who  as  lately  as  last  year  had 
ridden  the  crest  of  the  wave.  For  example,  it  spared  Sally 
Warner,  with  her  spotted  veils  drawn  close  around  her  face,  her 
red  belts,  and  her  red  tufts  on  her  small  toques,  but  it  blasted  the 
Morrells.  Mrs.  Morrell  clung  tenaciously  to  the  outskirts,  but 
she  knew  only  too  well  that  she  did  not  "belong."  In  her  heart 
she  ascribed  this  fact  to  Mrs.  Keith.  This  was  unjust,  but  it 
added  to  her  bitterness  against  her  neighbours. 

Perhaps  her  suspicions  were  not  unnatural,  for  Nan  won 
easily  in  this  game.  She  was  undoubtedly  the  social  leader.  It 
seemed  eminently  fitting  that,  lacking  her  husband,  she  should  go 
out  much  with  Ben  Sansome.  Most  women  thought  her  lucky  to 
have  acquired  so  valuable  a  social  acquisition.  Some  people,  like 
fat,  coarse,  sensible  Mrs.  Dick  Blatchford,  were  a  little  doubtful:^" 

"Shucks!  "snorted  Sally  Warner,  slapping  her  little  riding  boot 
dashingly  with  her  latest  novelty,  an  English  hunting  crop.  "  Nan 
Keith  impresses  me  as  one  who  knows  her  way  about.  And,  any- 
way,  as  long  as  Mr,  Keith  is  satisfied,  I'm  sure  we  should  be! " 


XXX 

TO  HIS  surprise  Ben  Sansome  found  himself  warming 
to  what  he  considered  a  real  passion.  At  least  it  was  as 
real  a  passion  as  he  was  capable  of  feeling.  Sansome  had 
always  been  spoiled.  Accustomed  as  he  was  to  easy  conquests, 
especially  of  late  among  the  faster  San  Francisco  women  of  the 
early  days,  Nan  Keith's  very  aloofness  attracted  him.  She 
dwelt  in  a  serene  atmosphere  of  unsuspicion,  going  about  freely 
with  him,  taking  their  right  relations  for  granted,  and  not  think 
ing  about  them.  Contemplating  this,  Sansome  was  clever 
enough  to  see  that  a  false  move  at  the  wrong  time  would  do  for 
him.  Therefore,  he  occupied  himself  at  first  merely  in  making 
himself  useful.  He  accepted  Keith's  role  for  him,  becoming 
the  friend  of  the  family,  dropping  in  often  and  informally,  hap 
pening  on  the  spot  at  just  the  right  time  to  relieve  Keith  of 
the  necessity  of  escorting  Nan  to  this  or  that  tea  or  ball. 
So  well  did  he  play  his  part  that  at  last  there  came  a  time  when 
Keith  said : 

"I'm  dead  tired  to-night,  Nan.  Seems  as  if  I  couldn't  stand 
chatter.  Can't  you  send  a  note  around  to  Ben  and  see  if  he  can't 
get  you  there  and  back?" 

This  came  to  be  a  regular  thing.  If  Sansome  did  not  happen 
to  be  there,  he  was  sent  for.  And  his  engagements  were  never 
such  that  he  failed  to  accept. 

He  and  Keith  called  each  other  by  their  given  names;  but  even 
after  a  close  intimacy  had  been  established,  he  never  addressed 
Nan  by  hers. 

"You  sound  very  formal,"  she  hinted  to  him  at  last. 

"To  me  the  privilege  of  calling  you  by  your  '  little  name  '  is  so 
great  an  evidence  of  friendship,  that  it  actually  seems  like 

181 


182  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

flaunting  that  friendship  to  call  you  so  before  others,"  he 
replied. 

Always  after  that  he  called  her  "Nan"  when  they  were  alone 
together,  but  "Mrs.  Keith"  when  a  third,  even  Keith  himself, 
was  present.  In  that  way  their  tete-a-tetes  were  marked  off  a 
little.  When  alone  with  her  he  maintained  the  pose  of  one 
struggling  manfully  against  tremendous  temptations  held  back 
only  by  her  sweet  influence.  But  he  never  overdid  it.  As  they 
came  to  know  each  other  better,  he  talked  ever  the  more  freely 
of  men's  mysterious  temptations.  Nan  could  not  define  to  her 
self  exactly  what  they  might  be. 

"Yesterday  I  couldn't  see  you,"  he  told  her.  "I  struggled  with 
myself  all  day.  Good  God,  what  does  a  woman  like  you  know  of 
a  man's  weaknesses  and  temptations —  But  I  conquered," 

Nan  was  uneasy.  She  did  not  know  quite  what  it  was  all 
about,  but  her  instincts  warned  her. 

"I  am  glad,"  she  replied;  and  went  on  hastily,  "but  you  must 
tell  me  what  you  think  about  having  the  tea  served  in  the  arbour 
on  the  seventh.  I've  been  dying  to  ask  you." 

With  an  obvious  effort  to  be  cheerful  about  this  fresh  subject, 
he  wrenched  himself  into  a  new  mood.  They  consulted  on  the 
party  for  the  seventh.  He  broke  off  abruptly  to  say:  "  Do  you 
know  you're  an  extraordinary  person — but  you  are!"  he  over 
rode  her  protests.  "  Don't  I  know  the  ordinary  kind?  Women 
have  a  deep  strength  of  their  own  that  men  cannot  understand! " 

He  stayed  only  a  few  minutes  after  that.  On  parting  he  for 
the  first  time  permitted  himself  a  lingering  gaze  into  her  eyes  as 
he  reluctantly  relinquished  her  hand.  She  turned  away,  distinctly 
uneasy.  Yet  so  skilfully  had  he  woven  his  illusion  of  dependence 
on  her  that  she  shook  it  off  with  a  tender  and  maternal  smile. 

"  Poor  boy,"  she  murmured.     " He  is  so  unhappy  and  alone ! " 

Sansome  was  an  accomplished  equestrian.  Finding  that  Nan 
knew  nothing  whatever  about  riding,  he  procured  her  a  gentle 
horse,  and  took  the  greatest  trouble  and  pleasure  in  teaching 
her.  She  proved  apt,  for  she  had  good  natural  control  of  her 
body.  After  the  first  uncertainty  and  the  first  stiffness  had 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  183 

worn  off,  she  delighted  in  long  rides  toward  different  parts  of 
the  peninsula.  Gringo,  now  a  full-grown  dog  inclining  to 
ward  the  shepherd  more  than  anything  else,  delighted  in 
them,  too.  He  ranged  far  and  wide  in  front  of  the  horses, 
exploring  every  ditch  and  thicket,  wallowing  happily  in  every 
mudhole,  returning  occasionally  to  roll  his  comical  eyes  at 
them  as  though  to  say,  "Aren't  we  having  a  good  time?" 
for  Gringo  was  a  dog  with  a  sense  of  humour.  On  these  ex 
cursions  she  renewed  acquaintance  with  the  sand  dunes,  and  the 
little  canons  with  birds,  and  the  broad  beach  at  low  tide  on  which 
it  was  glorious  to  gallop.  Once  or  twice  they  even  stopped  at 
the  little  rancho  where  the  Keiths  had  lunched.  There  Nan, 
through  Sansome,  who  talked  Spanish,  was  able  to  communicate 
with  her  kindly  hosts;  and  Gringo  met  his  honoured  but  rather 
snappy  mother.  The  mother  disowned  him  utterly.  As  the 
days  grew  shorter  they  often  rode  on  the  Presidio  hills,  watching 
the  sun  set  beyond  the  Golden  Gate. 

One  such  evening  they  had  reined  up  their  horses  atop  one  of 
the  hills  next  the  Gate.  The  sun  had  set  somewhere  beyond  the 
headlands.  Tamalpais  was  deep  pink  with  the  glow;  the  water 
in  the  Gate  was  pale  lilac;  the  sky  close  to  the  horizon  burned 
orange,  but  above  turned  to  a  pale  green  that  made  with  its 
lucent  colour  alone  infinite  depths  and  spaces.  Below,  the  darker 
waters  twisted  and  turned  with  the  tide.  The  western  headlands 
were  black  silhouettes. 

"Oh,  but  it  is  beautiful!"  she  said  at  last. 

"Yes,  it  is  beautiful,"  he  agreed  sombrely;  "but  when  one  is 
lonely,  somehow  it  hurts." 

There  ensued  a  short,  tense  silence,  broken  only  by  the  soft 
rolling  of  the  bit  wheels  in  the  horses'  mouths. 

"Yes,"  she  agreed  softly,  after  a  moment,  "I  feel  that,  too. 
Yet  sometimes  I  wonder  if  one  doesn't  see  and  feel  more  keenly 
when  one  is  not  too  happy "  She  hesitated. 

"Yes,  yes!  Go  on!"  he  urged  in  a  low  voice.  His  tone,  his 
attitude,  suddenly  seemed  to  envelop  her  with  understanding. 
He  appeared  to  offer  her  aid,  chivalrous  aid,  although  no  word 


i&l.  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

was  spoken.  She  had  not  quite  meant  it  that  way;  in  fact,  her 
thought  was  to  offer  him  sympathy.  But  somehow  it  was  grate 
ful.  It  would  do  no  harm  to  enjoy  it,  secretly,  for  a  moment. 
His  unexpressed  sympathy — for  what  she  would  have  been  un 
able  to  say — was  attractive  to  her  isolation. 

Often  on  returning  from  these  rides  she  asked  him  in  for  a  cup 
of  tea.  Occasionally,  when  she  was  overheated,  or  damp  from 
the  fog,  she  would  excuse  herself  and  slip  into  a  soft  negligee. 
With  lamp  and  fire  lit  they  made  a  very  cozy  tete-a-tete.  He 
smoked  contemplatively;  she  stitched  at  the  inevitable  em 
broidery  of  the  period.  Occasionally  they  talked  animatedly; 
quite  as  frequently  they  sat  in  sociable  silence.  Gringo  slept  by 
the  fire  dreaming  of  rabbits  and  things,  his  hind  legs  twitching 
as  he  triumphantly  ran  them  down.  One  evening  she  caught 
sight  of  a  rip  in  the  sewing  of  his  tobacco  pouch.  In  spite  of  his 
protests,  she  insisted  on  sewing  it  up  for  him.  She  was  conscious 
of  his  eyes  on  her  while  she  plied  the  needle,  and  felt  somehow 
very  feminine  and  sure  of  her  power. 

"There ! "  she  cried,  when  she  had  finished.  "  You  certainly  do 
need  somebody  to  take  care  of  you! " 

He  took  it  without  spoken  thanks,  and  put  it  slowly  away 
in  his  pocket — as  though  he  would  have  kissed  it.  A  pregnant 
silence  followed,  he  sitting  staring  at  her,  she  jabbing  the  needle 
idly  into  the  arm  of  her  chair.  Suddenly,  as  though  taking 
a  tremendous  resolution,  he  spoke : 

"Nan,  I  am  going  to  ask  you  a  question.  You  must  not  be 
offended.  Do  you  really  love  your  husband?"  At  her  hasty 
movement  he  hurried  on:  "I  imagine  I  feel  something  un 
satisfied  about  you — besides,  lots  of  women  don't." 

As  he  probably  expected,  her  indignation  was  thoroughly 
aroused.  He  took  his  castigation  and  dismissal  meekly,  and 
found  some  interest  in  the  ensuing  negotiations  toward  recon 
ciliation.  No  one  knew  better  than  he  how  to  sue  for  forgive 
ness.  But  he  was  quite  satisfied  to  have  implanted  the  idea, 
for  Ben  Sansome  was  content  with  slow  coral-insect  progress. 
A  busy  man,  engaged  in  men's  occupations,  would  never  have 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  185 

had  the  patience  for  this  leisurely  establishment  of  atmosphere 
and  influence;  his  impatience  or  passion  would  have  betrayed 
him  to  an  early  outbreak.  But  with  Sansome  it  was  the  prac 
tice  of  a  fine  art.  He  knew  just  how  far  to  go.  No  one  could 
more  skilfully  ingratiate  himself  in  small  ways.  He  always 
knew  what  gown  she  should  wear  or  had  worn,  and  always 
commented  appreciatively  on  what  she  had  on.  Keith  merely 
knew  vaguely  whether  she  looked  well  or  ill.  Sansome  noticed 
and  praised  little  things — her  well-shod  feet,  the  red  lights  in 
her  hair,  an  unusual  flower  in  her  belt.  He  knew  every  hat 
she  owned,  and  he  had  his  well-marked  preferences.  He  never 
made  direct  love,  nor  attempted  to  touch  her.  She  felt  the 
growing  attraction,  enjoyed  it,  but  did  not  analyze  it.  She 
merely  considered  Ben  Sansome  as  "nice,"  as  needing  guidance, 
as  romantic 

Occasionally,  after  seeing  more  than  usual  of  him,  some  feeling 
of  reaction  or  some  faint  stirring  of  conscience  would  impel 
her — perhaps  to  convince  herself  of  the  harmlessness  of  it  all — 
to  make  an  especial  effort  to  draw  her  husband  out  of  his  pre 
occupation  into  more  human  relations.  She  dressed  with  great 
care,  earlier  than  usual;  she  gathered  flowers  for  the  vases,  she 
fussed  about  lighting  lamps,  placing  ash  trays  and  chairs,  gen 
erally  arranging  the  setting  for  his  welcome  home.  The  prep 
arations  kindled  her  own  enthusiasm.  She  became  herself  quite 
worked  up  in  anticipation.  When  she  heard  his  step,  she  ran 
to  meet  him  in  the  hall.  Keith  happened  to  be  tired  to  the 
point  of  exhaustion. 

"Good  heavens!"  was  his  comment;  "are  we  having  company 
to-night?  Why  all  the  clothes  and  illumination?" 

His  relaxed,  dispirited  manner  of  removing  and  hanging  up 
his  coat  reacted  upon  her  instantly.  Her  high  spirits  sank  to 
the  depths.  They  ate  their  meal  in  almost  complete  silence. 
Nan  could  not  help  visualizing  Sansome's  appreciation  of  such 
an  occasion. 


XXXI 

THE  new  coherence  in  society  began  to  manifest  itself 
in  one  important  way:  public  gambling  declined.  In 
the  "old  days"  it  was  said  that  everybody  but  clergy 
men  frequented  the  big  gambling  halls.  They  were  a  sort  of 
club.  But  now  the  most  influential  citizens  began  to  stay  away. 
Probably  they  gambled  as  much  as  ever,  but  they  took  such 
pleasures  in  private.  Two  or  three  only  of  the  larger  places 
remained  in  business.  Save  for  them,  open  gambling  was 
confined  to  the  low  dives  near  the  water  front.  There  was 
no  definite  movement  against  the  practice.  It  merely  fell  off 
gradually. 

During  these  busy  years  the  Sherwoods  had  quite  methodi 
cally  continued  to  lead  their  customary  lives.  He  read  his 
morning  paper  on  the  veranda  of  the  Bella  Union,  talked  his 
leisurely  politics,  drove  his  horses,  and  in  the  evening  attended 
to  his  business.  She  drove  abroad,  received  her  men  friends, 
gave  them  impartial  advice  and  help  in  their  difficulties,  dressed 
well,  and  carried  on  a  life  of  many  small  activities.  The  Sher 
woods  were  always  an  attractive  looking  and  imposing  couple, 
whenever  they  appeared.  About  three  or  four  times  a  year 
they  drove  into  the  residential  part  of  town  and  made  a  half- 
dozen  formal  calls — on  the  Keiths  among  others.  Probably 
their  lives  were  more  nearly  ordered  on  a  routine  than  those 
of  any  other  people  in  the  new  city. 

One  afternoon  Sherwood  came  in  at  the  usual  hour,  deposited 
his  high  hat  carefully  on  the  table,  flicked  the  dust  off  his  boots, 
and  remarked  casually: 

"Patsy,  I've  sold  the  business." 

Mrs.  Sherwood  was  pinning  on  her  hat.  She  stopped  short, 

1 86 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  187 

her  hand  halfway  to  her  head,  as  though  turned  to  marble. 
After  a  moment  she  asked  in  a  quick,  stifled  voice: 

"  What  do  you  mean?  " 

"Well,"  replied  Sherwood,  continuing  methodically  to  read 
just  his  dress,  "I've  been  thinking  for  some  time  that  times 
were  changing.  The  gambling  business  is  losing  tone.  I  don't 
see  the  same  class  of  people  I  used  to  see.  Public  sentiment — 
of  the  very  best  people,  I  mean — is  drifting  away  from  it.  In 
the  future,  in  my  judgment,  it's  not  going  to  pay  as  it  ought. 
I've  been  thinking  these  things  for  some  time.  So  when  a  bona 
fide  purchaser  came  along " 

But  he  got  no  further.  With  a  smothered  cry  she  let  her 
arms  drop.  Her  customary  poise  had  vanished.  She  flung 
herself  on  him,  laughing,  crying,  gasping. 

"Why,  Patsy!  Patsy!"  he  cried,  patting  her  small,  sleek 
head  as  it  pressed  against  his  shoulder.  "What  is  it,  dearie? 
Tell  me?  What's  wrong?  " 

He  was  vastly  perturbed  and  anxious,  for  she  was  not  at  all 
the  type  that  loses  control  readily. 

"Nothing!  nothing!"  she  gasped.  "I'll  be  all  right  in  a  min 
ute.  Don't  mind  me.  Just  let  me  alone.  Only  you  told  me  so 
suddenly " 

"Don't  you  want  me  to  sell?"  he  asked,  utterly  bewildered. 

Gradually  he  gathered  from  her  disjointed  exclamations  that 
this  was  just  the  one  thing  she  had  wanted,  secretly,  for  years; 
the  thing  she  had  schooled  herself  not  to  hope  for;  the  last  thing 
in  the  world  she  had  expected.  And  to  his  astonishment  he 
gathered  further  that  now  she  was  free  she  could  take  her  place 
with  the  other  women 

"But  I  hadn't  the  slightest  idea  you  wanted  to!"  he  inter 
rupted  at  this  point.  "You've  never  showed  any  signs  of  pay 
ing  the  slightest  attention  to  them  before!" 

She  was  drying  her  eyes,  and  looking  a  little  happily  foolish. 

"I  knew  better  than  to  give  them  a  chance  to  snub  me," 
she  told  him.  "  Now  I'm  respectable." 

But  at  this  Sherwood  reared  his  crest. 


i88  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

"Respectable!"  he  snorted.  "What  do  you  mean?  Haven't 
you  always  been  respectable?  I'd  like  to  see  anybody  who 
would  hint " 

"You're  a  dear,  but  you're  a  man,"  she  broke  in  more  calmly. 
"Don't  you  know  that  a  gambler's  wife  isn't  respectable— in 
their  sense  of  the  word?" 

"But  every  mother's  son  of  them  gambles!"  cried  Sherwood. 
"It's  a  perfectly  legal  and  legitimate  occupation!" 

"The  men  do;  we'd  always  get  along  if  it  was  only  a  ques 
tion  of  the  men.  But  the  women  make  distinctions " 

"Look  here!"  he  broke  out  wrathfully.  "There's  Dick 
Blatchford  mixed  up  in  dirty  work  for  dirty  money  I  wouldn't 
lay  my  ringers  on;  and  Terry,  or  Brannan,  or  McGowan,  or  all 
the  rest  of  the  boodling,  land-grabbing,  pettifogging  crew! 
Why,  if  I  made  my  living  or  spare  cash  the  way  that  gang  of 
pirates  and  cutthroats  do  I'd  carry  a  pair  of  handcuffs  for  myself. 
Honest!  Respectable!  I've  got  no  kick  on  their  methods;  it's 
none  of  my  business.  But  their  wives  are  all  right.  I  don't 
see  it!" 

"It's  all  names,  I  acknowledge,"  she  soothed,  "just  names. 
I  attach  no  more  weight  to  them  than  you  do.  Don't  you 
suppose  I'd  have  said  something  if  I  had  thought  you  were 
doing  anything  wrong?  But  that's  the  way  they  play  the  game, 
and  it  is  their  game.  If  we  play  it  we've  got  to  accept  their 
rules.  Don't  you  see?" 

"  Well,  it's  a  mighty  poor  game,"  grumbled  Sherwood,"and  they 
strike  me  as  an  exceptionally  stupid  lot  of  women.  They'd  drive 
me  to  drink.  I  don't  see  what  you  want  to  bother  with  them  for." 

"They  are,"  she  agreed.  "They  won't  amuse  me  much— 
you  couldn't  understand— it's  just  the  idea  of  it—  But  I 
won't  be  looked  down  on,  even  by  my  inferiors!  Tell  me,  Jack, 
when  we  sell  the  business  are  we  going  to  be  wealthy,  will  we 
have  plenty  of  money?" 

A  hurt  look  came  into  his  fine,  straightforward  eyes. 

" Haven't  you  always  had  all  you  wanted,  Patsy?"  he  in 
quired. 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  189 

"Of  course  I  have,  you  old  goose!  But  I  want  to  know  what 
our  resources  are  before  I  plan  my  campaign. " 

"  Going  in  up  to  your  neck,  are  you?  "  he  commented  ruefully. 

She  nodded.  Her  eyes  were  bright,  and  a  spot  of  colour 
glowed  in  either  cheek. 

"Course  I  am.    What  can  I  spend?" 

"You  can  have  whatever  you  want." 

"That's  too  vague,  too  indefinite.  How  rich — or  poor — 
are  we  going  to  be?" 

"We'll  be  rich  enough." 

"Very?" 

"Well — yes,  very.  The  business  has  paid,  investments 
have  panned  out.  I  got  a  good  cash  purchase  price." 

"How  much  can  I  spend  a  year? "  she  persisted.  " It  doesn't 
matter  whether  it's  much  or  little,  but  I  want  to  know." 

"What  a  mercenary  little  creature!"  he  cried  facetiously; 
then  sobered  as  he  saw  by  the  expression  of  her  face  that  this 
apparently  trivial  thing  meant  a  great  deal  to  her.  "Oh,  fifty 
thousand  or  so  won't  cripple  us." 

"'A  year?"  she  breathed,  awed. 

He  nodded. 

"Oh!"  she  cried  rapidly.  "Then  we'll  have  a  house — a 
house  built  for  our  very  own  selves,  our  very  own  plans! " 

"Why,  I  thought  we  were  very  comfortable  here!"  he  pro 
tested,  a  little  dismayed.  "Haven't  we  room  enough?  I'll 
make  Rebinot  cut  a  door " 

"No!  no!  no!  a  house  of  my  own!"  She  was  on  fire  with  ex 
citement,  walking  restlessly  up  and  down.  He  watched  her  a 
moment  or  so.  His  slower  imagination  was  kindling.  He  was 
beginning  to  grasp  the  symbolism  of  it,  what  it  meant  to  her, 
the  release  of  long-pent  secret  desires.  As  she  passed  him,  he 
seized  her  and  drew  her  gently  to  his  knee. 

"Patsy!"  he  cried  contritely,  "I  didn't  realize!  I  didn't 
guess  you  weren't  perfectly  contented  here!" 

She  brushed  his  cheek  with  hers. 

"Of  course  you  didn't,"  she  reassured  him. 


190  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

"If  you'd  made  the  slightest  sign " 

She  threw  her  head  back  proudly,  and  her  breast  swelled. 

"I  married  you  to  lead  your  life,  Jack,  whatever  it  was," 
she  told  him,  "to  be  your  helpmate." 

"You're  the  gamest  little  sportsman  in  this  town!'*  he  cried. 
"And  if  you  want  to  make  those  flub-dubs  crawl,  by  God  you 
sail  in!  I'll  back  you!" 

Ten  minutes  later  she  asked  him: 

"What  are  you  going  to  do,  yourself,  Jack?  Somehow,  I 
can't  imagine  you  idle." 

"Well,"  said  Sherwood,  "the  boys  are  organizing  a  stock 
exchange,  and  it  struck  me  that  it  might  be  a  good  idea  if  I 
went  into  that." 

She  began  to  laugh  softly,  in  affectionate  amusement. 

"Stop  it!"  he  commanded  indignantly.  "I  know  that  laugh. 
What  have  I  done  now?" 

"I  was  just  thinking  what  a  nice,  respectable  gambler  you 
are  going  to  be  now,"  she  said.  "It's  in  your  blood,  Jack,  and  I 
love  it — but  it's  funny!" 


XXXII 

BUT  now,  at  the  very  sources,  the  full  flood  of  the  some 
what  turbid  tide  of  prosperity  was  beginning  to  fail. 
The  ebb  had  not  yet  reached  the  civic  consciousness.  It 
would  have  required  a  philosopher,  and  a  detached  philosopher 
at  that,  to  have  connected  cause  and  effect,  to  have  forecast  the 
inevitable  trend  of  events.  If  there  were  any  philosophers 
they  were  not  detached!  Nobody  had  discovered  the  simple 
truth  that  extravagance,  graft,  waste,  cost  money;  and  that 
the  money  must  come  from  somewhere.  Realization  on  itf 
property  and  taxes  were  the  twin  sources  of  the  city's  revenues. 
The  property  was  now  about  all  sold  or  swindled  away.  Re 
mained  the  taxes.  And  it  is  a  self-evident  truth  that  people 
will  pay  high  taxes  cheerfully  only  so  long  as  they  themselves 
are  making  plenty  of  money  easily. 

Up  to  this  period  such  had  been  the  case.  Prices  had  been 
high,  wages  had  been  high,  opportunities  had  been  many. 
Enormous  profits  had  been  the  rule.  Everybody  had  invariably 
made  money.  These  conditions  upset  the  mental  balance  of  the 
shipping  merchants  back  East.  A  madness  seemed  to  obsess 
them  for  sending  goods  to  California.  The  mere  rumour  of  a 
want  or  a  lack  was  answered  by  immense  shipments  of  that 
particular  commodity.  The  first  cargo  to  arrive  supplied  the 
want;  all  the  rest  simply  broke  the  market.  It  was  a  gamble  as 
to  who  should  get  there  first.  The  immediate  and  picturesque 
consequence  was  a  fleet  of  beautiful  clipper  ships,  built  like 
racing  yachts,  with  long  clean  lines  and  snowy  sails.  They  made 
extraordinarily  fast  voyages,  and  they  promptly  condemned  to 
death  the  old-fashioned,  slow  freight  carriers.  Indeed,  four- 
hundred  odd  of  these  actually  rotted  at  anchor  in  the  bay;  it  had 

191 


i92  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

not  paid  to  move  them!  Some  of  these  clippers  gained  vast 
reputations:  the  Flying  Cloud,  the  White  Squall,  the  Typhoon,  the 
Trade  Wind.  The  markets  were  continually  in  a  state  of  glut 
with  goods  sold  at  auction.  This  condition  tightened  the  money 
market,  which  in  turn  reacted  on  other  branches  of  industry. 
Again,  the  great  fires  of  '49-' 53  resulted  in  the  erection  of  too 
many  fireproof  buildings.  Storage  was  needed,  and  rentals  were 
high,  so  everybody  plunged  on  storehouses.  By  '54  many 
hundreds  of  them  stood  vacant,  representing  loss.  At  that 
period  the  first  abundance  of  the  placers  began  to  fall  off. 

Agriculture  was  beginning  to  be  undertaken  seriously;  and 
while  this  would  be  an  ultimate  source  of  wealth,  its  immediate 
effect  was  to  diminish  the  demand  for  imported  foodstuffs— 
another  blow  to  a  purely  mercantile  city. 

All  this  made  for  excitement,  some  immediate  gain,  but  a  sure 
ultimate  loss.  Markets  fluctuated  wildly.  A  ship  in  sight 
threw  operators  into  a  fever.  No  one  knew  what  she  might  be 
carrying,  or  how  she  would  affect  prices.  It  was,  therefore, 
positively  unsafe  to  keep  many  goods  in  stock.  Quick,  im 
mediate  sales  were  the  rule.  And  failures  were  many. 

Now  in  these  middle  fifties  the  pinch  was  beginning  at  last  to 
make  itself  felt.  Everybody  was  a  little  vague  about  it  all,  and 
nobody  had  gone  so  far  as  to  formulate  his  dissatisfactions  or  his 
remedies.  The  tangible  result  was  the  formation  of  two  as  yet 
inchoate  elements,  representing  the  extremes  of  ideas  and  of 
interests. 

The  first  of  these  elements — that  can  with  equal  justice  be 
called  the  parasitic  or  the  middleman  class — consisted  in  itself  of 
several  sorts  of  people.  The  nucleus  was  a  small,  intellectually 
honest  set  of  men  who  believed,  in  the  law  per  se,  in  the  sacredness 
of  formal  institutions  in  the  constitution,  and  in  the  subser 
vience  of  the  individual  to  the  institution.  This  was  tempera 
mental.  Behind  them  were  many  much  larger  groups  of  those 
who  needed  either  the  interpretation  or  the  protection  of  the  law 
for  their  private  interests.  These  were  of  all  sorts  from  honest 
but  literal-minded  dealers,  through  shady  contractors  and 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  193 

operators,  down  to  grafters  and  the  very  lowest  type  of  strong- 
arm  bullies.  The  tone  and  respectability  came  from  the  first, 
the  practical  results  from  the  second.  The  first  class  had  a 
genuine  intellectual  contempt  for  men  whose  minds  could  not  see 
— or  at  least  would  not  accept — the  same  subtleties  that  it  did. 
Its  members  were  fond  of  such  phrases  as  the  "lawless  mob,"  or 
the  "subversion  of  tune-honoured  institutions."  This  small, 
subjectively  honest,  conservative,  specially  trained  element  must 
not  be  forgotten  in  the  final  estimate  of  what  later  came  to  be 
known  as  the  "  Law  and  Order  "  party. 

On  the  other  hand  was  first  of  all  an  equally  small  nucleus  of 
thinking  men  whose  respect  for  the  law,  merely  as  law,  was  not  so 
profound;  men  who  were,  reluctantly,  willing  to  admit  that  when 
law  completely  broke  down  in  encompassing  justice,  individual 
ism  was  justified  in  stepping  in.  Behind  them  was  a  vast  body  of 
more  or  less  unthinking  men  who  recognized  the  indubitable  facts 
that  the  law  had  become  a  farce,  that  justice  had  degenerated  to 
tricks,  and  who  were,  therefore,  instinctively  against  law,  law 
yers,  and  everybody  who  had  anything  to  do  with  them. 

Strangely  enough  this  made  for  lawlessness  on  both  sides. 
Those  who  believed  in  "law  and  order"  committed  crime  or 
misdemeanour  or  mere  injustice,  sure  of  escape  through  some 
technicality.  Those  who  distrusted  courts  administered  justice 
illegally  with  their  own  hands !  Nor  was  this  merely  in  theory. 
San  Francisco  at  that  time  was  undoubtedly  the  most  corrupt 
and  lawless  city  in  the  world.  Street  shootings,  duels,  robberies, 
ballot-box  stuffing,  bribery,  all  the  crimes  traceable  to  a  supine 
police  and  venal  or  technical  courts  were  actually  so  common 
place  as  to  command  but  two  or  three  lines  in  the  daily  papers. 
Justice  was  completely  smothered  under  technicalities  and  de 
lays. 

The  situation  would  have  been  intolerable  to  any  people  less 
busy  than  the  people  of  that  time.  For  political  corruption  in  a 
vigorous  body  politic  is  not,  as  pessimists  would  have  us  believe, 
an  indication  of  incipient  decay,  but  only  an  indication  that  a 
busy  people  are  willing  to  pay  that  price  to  be  left  alone,  to  be  re- 


194  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

lieved  of  the  administration  of  their  public  affairs.  When  they 
get  less  busy,  or  the  price  in  corruption  becomes  too  high,  then 
they  refuse  to  pay.  The  price  San  Francisco  was  paying  was  be 
coming  very  high,  not  only  in  money,  but  in  other  and  spiritual 
things.  She  could  still  afford  to  pay  it;  but  at  the  least  pressure 
she  would  no  longer  afford  it.  Then  she  would  act. 


XXXIII 

IN  THE  second  year  of  his  residence  Keith  had  a  minor 
adventure  that  shifted  a  portion  of  his  activities  to  other 
fields.  He  was  in  attendance  at  a  council  meeting,  following 
the  interests  of  certain  clients.  The  evening  was  warm,  the  pro 
ceedings  dull.  Opened  windows  let  in  the  sounds  from  the 
Plaza  and  a  night  air  that  occasionally  flared  the  smoky  lamps. 
The  clerk's  voice  was  droning  away  at  some  routine  when  the 
outer  door  opened  and  a  most  extraordinary  quartette  entered 
the  chamber.  Three  of  these  were  the  ordinary,  ragged,  dis 
couraged,  emaciated,  diseased  "bums,"  only  too  common  in  that 
city.  In  early  California  a  man  either  succeeded  or  he  failed  into 
a  dark  abyss  of  complete  discouragement;  the  new  civilization 
had  little  use  for  weaklings.  The  fourth  man  can  be  no  better 
described  than  in  the  words  of  a  chronicler  of  the  period.  Says 
the  worthy  diarist: 

"He  was  a  man  of  medium  stature,  slender  but  very  graceful, 
with  almost  effeminate  hands  and  feet — the  former  scrupulously 
kept,  the  latter  neatly  shod — and  with  a  certain  air  of  fragility; 
very  soft  blue  eyes  with  sleepy  lids;  a  classically  correct  nose;  short 
upper  lip;  rosy,  moist  lips.  His  clothes:  a  claret-coloured  coat, 
neither  dress  nor  frock,  but  mixed  of  both  fashions,  with  a  velvet 
collar  and  brass  buttons;  a  black  vest,  double  breasted;  iron-gray 
pantaloons;  fresh,  well-starched,  and  very  fine  linen;  plain  black 
cravat,  negligently  tied;  a  cambric  handkerchief;  and  dark  kid 
gloves.  He  wore  gold  spectacles,  and  carried  a  malacca  cane." 
Instead  of  slipping  into  the  seats  provided  for  spectators, 
this  striking  individual  marched  boldly  to  the  open  space  before 
the  mayor's  chair,  followed,  shamefaced  and  shambling,  by  the 
three  bums. 


196  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

"Your  honours  and  gentlemen,"  he  cried  in  a  clear,  ringing 
voice,  to  the  scandal  of  the  interrupted  legislators,  "we  are  very 
sick  and  hungry  and  helpless  and  wretched.  If  somebody  does 
noc  do  something  for  us,  we  shall  die;  and  that  would  be  bad,  con 
sidering  how  far  we  have  come,  and  how  hard  it  was  to  get  here, 
and  how  short  a  time  we  have  been  here,  and  that  we  have  not 
had  a  fair  chance.  All  we  ask  is  a  fair  chance,  and  we  say  again, 
upon  our  honour,  gentlemen,  if  somebody  does  not  do  something 
for  us,  we  shall  die,  or  we  shall  be  setting  fire  to  the  town  first  and 
cutting  all  our  throats." 

He  stood  leaning  lightly  against  his  malacca  cane,  surveying 
them  through  his  sleepy  blue  eyes.  The  first  astonishment  over, 
they  took  up  a  collection,  after  the  customary  careless,  generous 
fashion.  The  young  man  saluted  with  his  cane,  and  herded  his 
three  exhibits  out. 

Keith,  much  struck,  followed  them,  overtaking  the  quartette 
on  the  street. 

"My  name  is  Keith,"  he  said.  "I  should  like  to  make  your 
acquaintance." 

"Mine  is  Krafft,"  replied  the  unknown,  "and  I  am  delighted 
to  accept  your  proffer." 

He  said  nothing  more  until  he  had  marshalled  his  charges  into 
a  cheap  eating-house,  ordered  and  paid  for  a  supper,  and  divided 
the  remainder  of  the  amount  collected.  Then  he  dusted  his 
fingers  daintily  with  a  fine  handkerchief,  and  sauntered  out  into 
the  street,  swinging  his  malacca  cane. 

"  Incidents  of  that  sort  restore  one's  faith  in  the  generosity  of 
our  people,"  Keith  remarked,  in  order  to  say  something. 

"  Nobody  has  been  generous,"  denied  Krafft  categorically, "  and 
no  particular  good  has  been  accomplished.  Filled  their  bellies  for 
this  evening;  given  them  a  place  to  sleep  for  this  night;  that's  all." 

"That's  something,"  ventured  Keith.     "It  helps." 

"The  only  way  to  help  we  have  not  undertaken.  We  have 
done  nothing  toward  finding  out  why  there  are  such  creatures — 
in  a  place  like  this.  That's  the  only  way  to  help  them:  find  out 
why  they  are,  and  then  remove  the  why." 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  197 

This  commonplace  of  modern  charity  was  then  a  brand-new 
thought.  Keith  had  never  heard  it  expressed,  and  he  was  much 
interested. 

"  I  suppose  there  are  always  the  weak  and  the  useless,"  he  said 
vaguely. 

"If  those  men  were  wholly  weak  and  useless,  how  did  they 
get  out  here?"  countered  Krafft.  "To  compass  such  a  journey 
takes  a  certain  energy,  a  certain  sum  of  money,  a  certain  fund  of 
hope.  The  money  goes,  the  energy  drains,  the  hope  fades. 
Why?" 

They  stopped  at  a  corner. 

"I  live  just  near  here,"  said  Krafft.     "If  you  will  honour  me." 

He  led  the  way  down  a  narrow  dark  alley,  along  which  they 
had  fairly  to  grope  their  way.  It  debouched,  however,  into  the 
forgotten  centre  of  the  square.  All  the  edges  had  been  built 
close  with  brick  stores,  warehouses,  and  office  buildings.  But  in 
the  very  middle  had  been  left  a  waste  piece  of  ground,  occupied 
only  by  a  garden  and  a  low  one-room  abode,  with  a  veranda  and 
a  red-tiled  roof.  Under  the  moonlight  and  the  black  shadows 
from  the  modern  buildings  it  slept  amid  its  bright  flowers  with 
the  ancient  air  of  another  world.  Krafft  turned  a  key  and 
lighted  a  lamp.  Keith  found  himself  in  a  small,  neat  room,  with 
heavy  beams,  fireplace,  and  deep  embrasured  windows.  An  iron 
bed,  two  chairs,  a  table,  a  screen,  a  shelf  of  books,  and  a  ward 
robe  were  its  sole  furnishings.  In  the  fireplace  had  been  laid,  but 
not  lighted,  a  fire  of  sagebrush  roots. 

Krafft  touched  a  match  to  the  roots,  which  instantly  leaped 
into  eager  and  aromatic  flames.  From  a  shelf  he  took  a  new  clay 
pipe  which  he  handed  to  Keith. 

"Tobacco  is  in  that  jar,"  he  said. 

He  himself  filled  and  lighted  a  big  porcelain  pipe  with  wexel- 
wood  stem. 

"What  would  you  do  about  it?"  asked  Keith,  continuing  the 
discussion. 

"What  would  you  most  want,  if  you  were  those  poor  men?" 
retorted  KraSt,  blowing  a  huge  cloud* 


198  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

Keith  laughed. 

"Drink,  food,  clothes,  bed,"  he  stated  succinctly. 

"And  work  wherewith  to  get  them,"  supplemented  Krafft. 

Keith  laughed  again. 

"Not  if  I  know  their  sort!  Work  is  the  one  thing  they  don't 
want." 

%  Kraff t  leaned  forward,  and  tapped  the  table  with  one  of  his 
long  forefingers. 

"The  lazy  part  of  them,  the  earthen  part  of  them,  the  dross  of 
them — yes,  perhaps.  But  let  us  concede  to  them  a  spark  that 
smoulders,  way  down  deep  within  them — a  spark  of  which  they 
think  they  are  ashamed,  which  they  do  not  themselves  realize  the 
existence  of  except  occasionally.  What  is  the  deep  need  of 
them?  It  is  to  feel  that  they  are  still  of  use,  that  they  amount  to 
something,  that  they  are  men.  That  more  than  mere  food  and 
warmth.  Is  it  not  so?  " 

"I  believe  you're  right,"  said  Keith,  impressed. 

"Then,"  said  Krafft  triumphantly,  "it  is  work  they  want, 
work  that  is  useful  and  worth  paying  for." 

"  But  there's  plenty  of  work  to  be  had,"  objected  Keith,  after  a 
moment.  "In  fact,  there's  more  work  in  this  town  than  there 
are  men  to  do  it." 

"True.  But  it  is  the  hard  work  these  men  have  failed  at.  It 
is  too  hard.  They  try;  they  are  discouraged;  they  fall  again,  and 
perhaps  they  never  get  up.  Such  men  must  be  led,  must  be 
watched,  must  be  stopped  within  their  strength." 

"Who's  there  to  do  that  sort  of  dry  nursing  of  bums?"  de 
manded  Keith  with  a  half  laugh. 

"He  who  would  help,"  said  Krafft  quietly. 

They  smoked  for  some  time  in  silence;  then  Keith  arose  to  go. 

"It  is  a  big  idea;  it  requires  thought,"  said  he  ruminatively. 
"You  are  a  recent  arrival,  Mr.  Krafft?  What  is  your  line  of 
activity?" 

The  slight,  elegant  little  man  smiled. 

"I  am  one  of  the — what  is  it  you  called  them — bums  of  whom 
we  talk.  I  try  to  do  what  is  within  my  power,  within  my 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  199 

strength — lest  I,  too,  become  discouraged,  lest  I,  too,  fall  again — 
and  not  get  up." 

"  I  have  not  seen  you  about  anywhere,"  said  Keith,  puzzled  by 
this  speech. 

" I  do  not  go  anywhere;  I  should  be  eaten.  You  do  not  under 
stand  me,  and  I  am  a  poor  host  to  talk  in  riddles.  I  am  a 
philosopher,  not  a  man  of  action;  egotist,  not  an  egoist;  one  who 
cannot  swim  in  your  strong  waters.  As  I  said,  one  of  that  same 
class  whom  your  bounty  helped  this  evening." 

"Good  Lord,  man!"  cried  Keith,  looking  about  the  little 
room.  "You're  not  in  want?" 

Krafft  laughed  gently. 

"In  your  sense,  no.  I  have  my  meals.  Enough  of  me.  Go, 
and  think  of  what  I  say." 

Keith  did  so,  and  the  result  was  the  first  organized  charity 
in  San  Francisco.  Since  1849  men  had  always  been  exception 
ally  generous  in  responding  to  appeals  for  money.  Huge  sums 
could  easily  be  raised  at  any  time.  Hospitals  and  almshouses 
dated  from  the  first.  But  having  given,  these  pioneers  in 
variably  forgot.  The  erection  of  the  buildings  cost  more  than 
they  should,  and  management  being  venal,  conditions  soon  be 
came  disgraceful.  Alms  reached  the  professional  pauper.  The 
miner  or  immigrant,  diseased,  discouraged,  out  of  luck,  more 
often  died — either  actually  or  morally. 

So  much  had  this  first  interview  caught  his  interest  that 
Keith  dropped  in  on  his  new  acquaintance  quite  often.  It  soon 
became  evident  that  Krafft  lived  in  what  might  be  called  decent 
poverty.  The  one  fine  rig-out  hi  which  he  made  his  public 
appearances  was  most  carefully  preserved.  Indoors  he  always 
promptly  assumed  a  dressing-gown,  a  skull  cap  with  a  gold 
tassel,  and  his  great  porcelain  pipe.  His  meals  he  cooked  for 
himself.  Never  did  he  leave  his  house  until  about  three  o'clock. 
Then,  spick  and  span,  exquisitely  appointed,  he  sauntered  forth 
swinging  his  malacca  cane.  After  a  promenade  of  several 
hours  he  returned  again  to  his  dressing-gown,  his  porcelain 
pipe,  and  his  books.  Keith  enjoyed  hugely  his  detached,  re- 


200  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

flective,  philosophical,  spectator-of-life  conversation.  They 
talked  on  many  subjects  besides  sociology.  At  his  fourth  visit 
Krafft  made  a  suggestion. 

"You  shall  come  with  me  and  see,"  said  he. 

He  led  the  way  to  the  water  front  under  Telegraph  Hill, 
the  newest  and  the  most  squalid  part  of  town.  The  shallow 
water  was  in  slow  process  of  being  filled  in  by  sand  from  the 
grading  uptown  and  with  all  sorts  of  miscellaneous  debris.  Pend* 
ing  solidity,  this  sketchy  real  estate  swarmed  with  squatters. 
There  were  lots  sunken  below  the  street  level,  filled  with  stag 
nant  water,  discarded  garments,  old  boxes,  ashes,  and  rubbish; 
houses  huddled  closely  together  with  stale  water  beneath;  there 
were  muddy  alleys;  murderous,  cheap  saloons;  cheaper  gambling 
joints;  rickety,  sagging  tenements.  The  people  corresponded 
to  their  habitations.  All  the  low  elements  lurked  here,  the 
thugs,  strong-arm  men,  the  hold-ups,  the  heelers,  the  weaklings, 
the  bums,  the  diseased.  In  ordinary  times  they  here  dwelt  in  a 
twilight  existence;  but  at  periods  of  excitement — as  when  the 
city  burned — they  swarmed  out  like  rats  for  plunder. 

Krafft  held  his  way  steadily  to  the  wharves.  There  he  left 
the  causeway  and  descended  to  the  level  of  the  beach.  Beneath 
the  pilings,  and  above  the  high- water  mark,  was  a  little  hut. 
It  was  not  over  six  feet  square,  constructed  of  all  sorts  of  old 
pieces  of  boxes,  scraps  of  tin,  or  remnants  of  canvas.  Overhead 
rumbled  continuously  the  heavy  drays,  shaking  down  through 
the  cracks  the  dust  of  the  roadway.  Against  one  outside  wall 
of  this  crazy  structure  an  old  man  sat,  chair  tilted  in  the  sun. 
Even  the  chair  was  a  curiosity,  miraculously  held  together  by 
wires.  The  man  was  very  old,  and  very  feeble,  his  knotted 
hands  clasping  a  short,  black  clay  pipe.  Inside  the  hut  Keith 
saw  a  rough  bunk  on  which  lay  jumbled  a  quilt  and  a  piece  of 
canvas. 

"Well,  John,"  greeted  Krafft  cheerfully,  "I've  brought  a 
friend  to  see  you." 

The  old  man  turned  on  Keith  a  twinkling  blue  eye. 

"  Glad  to  see  you,"  he  said  briefly. 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  2011 

"Getting  on?"  pursued  Krafft. 

"Fine." 

"Here's  a  new  kind  of  tobacco  I  want  you  to  try.  I  should 
value  your  opinion." 

Keith's  hand  wandered  toward  his  pocket,  but  stopped  at  a 
sharp  look  from  Krafft.  After  a  moment's  chat  they  withdrew. 

"What  a  pathetic  old  figure!  What  utter  misery!"  cried 
Keith. 

"No!"  said  Krafft  positively.  "There  you  are  wrong.  Old 
John  is  in  no  need  of  us.  He  has  his  house  and  his  bed,  and 
he  gets  his  food.  How,  I  do  not  know,  but  he  gets  it.  The 
spark  is  burning  clear  and  steady.  He  has  not  lost  his  grip. 
He  gets  his  living  with  confidence.  Let  him  alone." 

"But  he  must  be  very  miserable — especially  when  it  rains," 
persisted  Keith. 

Krafft  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"As  to  that,  I  know  not,"  he  returned  indifferently.  "That 
does  not  matter  to  the  soul.  I  will  now  show  you  another  man." 

They  retraced  their  steps.  On  a  corner  of  Montgomery 
Street  Krafft  stopped  before  a  one-armed  beggar,  the  stump 
exposed,  a  placard  around  his  neck. 

"Now  here's  another  John,"  said  Krafft.  "  What  he  wants  is 
work,  and  somebody  to  see  that  he  does  it." 

The  one-armed  beggar,  who  was  fat,  with  a  good-natured 
countenance,  evidently  considered  this  a  joke.  He  grinned 
cheerfully. 

"Don't  have  to,  guvenor,"  said  he. 

"How  much  did  you  take  in  yesterday,  John?"  asked  Krafft; 
then,  catching  the  beggar's  look  of  suspicion,  he  added,  "This 
is  a  friend  of  mine;  he's  all  right." 

"Twenty-two  dollars,"  replied  the  beggar  proudly.  "Pretty 
good  day's  wages!" 

"I'm  afraid  the  spark  is  about  out  with  you,  John,"  said 
Krafft  thoughtfully.  He  walked  on  a  few  steps,  then  turned 
back.  "John,"  he  asked,  "what  is  your  contribution  to  so 
ciety?" 


202  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

The  beggar  stared,  uncertain  of  this  new  chaff. 

"The  true  theory  of  business,  John,  is  that  traffic  which  does 
not  result  in  reciprocal  advantages  to  buyer  and  seller  is  illegiti 
mate,  or  at  least  abnormal." 

They  walked  on,  Keith  laughing  at  the  expression  on  the 
beggar's  face. 

"That  was  considerably  over  his  head,"  he  observed. 

Nothing  more  was  said  for  half  a  block. 

"I  wonder  if  it  was  over  yours,"  then  said  Krafft, unexpectedly. 

"Eh?"  ejaculated  Keith,  bewildered. 

These  walks  with  Krafft  finally  resulted  in  the  institution 
of  a  fund  which  Keith  raised  and  put  into  Krafft's  hands  for 
intelligent  use.  The  effects  were  so  interesting  that  Keith, 
thoroughly  fascinated,  began  to  pester  his  friends  for  positions 
for  some  of  his  proteges.  As  he  was  well-liked  and  in  earnest, 
these  efforts  were  taken  good-humouredly. 

"Here  comes  Milt  Keith,"  said  John  Webb  to  Bert  Taylor. 
"Bet  you  a  beaver  hat  he's  got  a  highly  educated  college  pro 
fessor  that  he  wants  a  job  for." 

"'A  light  job,  not  beyond  his  powers,'"  quoted  Taylor. 

"Like  cleaning  genteel  spittoons,"  supplemented  Webb. 

"The  engine  house  is  full  of  'em  polishing  brass,"  com 
plained  Taylor. 

"Well,  he's  a  fine  young  felly,  and  I  like  him,"  concluded 
Webb  heartily. 

Of  course  many  of  the  experiments  failed,  but  fewer  than 
might  have  been  anticipated.  Part  of  Krafft's  task  was  to 
keep  in  touch  with  the  men.  His  detached,  philosophical 
method  of  encouragement  and  analysis  of  the  situation  seemed 
just  the  thing  they  needed. 


XXXIV 

THESE  activities  gave  Keith  just  the  required  door  out 
into  a  world  other  than  his  own.  Were  it  not  for  some 
thing  of  the  sort  he  might,  like  many  modern  corpora 
tion  lawyers,  have  confined  himself  entirely  to  his  own  class. 
And  this,  of  course,  would  eventually  have  meant  narrowness. 

But  through  Krafft,  and  especially  through  his  desire  to 
help  Krafft's  work,  he  came  in  contact  with  all  sorts  of  people; 
and,  what  was  more  important,  he  found  that  he  liked  a  great 
many  of  them.  So  it  happened  that  when  it  seemed  expedient 
to  the  ruling  caste  to  put  him  in  as  Assistant  District  Attorney, 
his  inevitable  election  met  with  wider  approval  than  such  elec 
tions  usually  enjoy. 

For  it  must  be  understood  that  in  the  fifties  any  candidate 
selected  by  the  ruling  caste  was  absolutely  sure  of  election. 
The  machinery  was  thoroughly  in  their  hands.  Diplomacy  in 
party  caucuses,  delicate  manipulation  at  primaries,  were  backed 
by  cruder  methods  if  need  be.  Associations  were  semi-publi- 
cally  formed  for  the  sale  of  votes;  gangs  of  men  were  driven 
from  one  precinct  to  another,  voting  in  all;  intimidation,  and,  in 
deed,  open  violence,  was  freely  used.  Only  the  most  adventurous 
or  the  most  determined  thought  it  worth  while  even  to  try  to 
vote  in  the  rough  precincts.  And  if  the  first  and  second  lines  of 
defence  failed,  there  was  still  the  third  to  fall  back  on  when  the 
booths  were  closed  and  the  ballots  counted:  the  boxes  could 
still  be  "stuffed,"  the  count  could  still  be  scientifically  juggled 
to  bring  about  any  desired  result. 

This  particular  election  was  one  of  the  worst  in  the  history 
of  the  place.  All  day  fighting  was  kept  up,  and  the  rowdies 
swaggered  everywhere.  Whiskey  was  to  be  had  for  the  asking; 

203 


204  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

and  the  roughs  who  surrounded  the  polls  fired  shots,  and  in 
some  places  started  what  might  fairly  be  called  riots.  Yankee 
Sullivan  returned  James  Casey  as  elected  supervisor,  which  was 
probably  a  mistake,  for  Casey  was  not  a  candidate,  his  name 
was  on  none  of  the  official  ballots,  and  nobody  could  be  found 
who  had  voted  for  him.  Everybody  was  surprised,  Casey 
most  of  all!  The  sixth  ward  count  was  delayed  unconscionably, 
its  returns  being  withheld  until  nearly  morning.  It  was  more 
than  hinted  that  this  delay  was  prolonged  until  the  returns  had 
been  received  from  all  other  precincts,  so  that  any  deficiencies 
might  be  made  up  by  the  sixth.  The  "slate"  went  through 
unbroken. 

Of  all  the  candidates,  Keith  received  the  most  votes,  for  the 
simple  reason  that  his  total  included  both  the  honest  and  dis 
honest  ballots.  Blatchford,  Neil,  Palmer,  Adams,  all  the  politi 
cal  overlords  of  the  city  were  satisfied,  as  well  they  might  be, 
for  they  had  issued  the  fiat  that  he  be  chosen. 

"He's  one  of  us,"  said  they. 

But  what  was  more  unusual,  the  rank  and  file  of  decent, 
busy,  hard-working  citizens  approved,  too. 

"Keith  is  not  stuck  up,"  they  told  each  other.  "He  is  the 
commonest  man  in  that  bunch.  And  he's  square." 

The  position  carried  some  social  as  well  as  political  signifi 
cance.  Society  made  another  effort  to  take  him  up.  His  rare 
appearances  were  rather  in  the  nature  of  concessions.  They 
served  to  make  him  more  regretted,  for  he  had  an  easy,  jolly 
way  of  moving  from  one  group  or  one  woman  to  another,  of 
paying  flattering,  monopolizing,  brief  attention  to  each  in  turn, 
and  then  disappearing,  veiy  early!  His  bold  rather  florid  coun 
tenance  radiated  energy  and  quizzical  good  humour;  his  tight, 
closely  curled  hair  crisped  with  virile  alertness;  he  carried  him 
self  taut  and  eager — altogether  a  figure  to  engage  the  curiosi 
ties  of  women  or  the  interest  of  men. 

Mrs.  Sherwood  alone  was  shrewd  enough  to  penetrate  to  his 
:rue  feelings.  She  had  experienced  no  difficulty  in  pushing 
o  a  social  leadership  shared — indolently  and  indifferently — 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  205 

with  Nan  Keith.  Already  her  past  was  growing  dim  in  a  tradi 
tion  kept  r,live  only  by  a  few  whisperers.  Her  wealth,  her  natural 
tact  and  poise,  her  calm  assumption  of  the  right  to  rule, her  great 
personal  charm,  beauty,  and  taste  were  more  than  sufficient 
to  get  her  what  she  wanted.  The  game  was  almost  too  easy, 
when  one  held  the  cards. 

"Yes,  he's  very  charming,"  she  told  her  husband,  "but  that 
manner  of  his  does  not  impress  me.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  he 
doesn't  care  a  snap  of  his  finger  about  any  of  them.  He  does 
it  too  well.  It's  a  stencil.  Only  the  outside  of  him  does  it. 
He's  just  as  bad  as  you  are;  only  he  doesn't  hold  up  a  comer  of 
the  doorway  all  the  evening,  and  beam  vaguely  in  general,  like 
a  good-natured,  dear  old  owl." 


XXXV 

A  FEW  clear-headed  men— not  the  "chivalry/*  as  the 
fire-eating  professional  politicians  and  lawyers  from  the 
South  were  almost  uniformly  designated — were  able 
to  see  exactly  the  problem  that  must  eventually  demand  Keith's 
solution.  Some  of  them  talked  it  over  while  lounging  and 
smoking  in  the  Fire  Queen  reading-room.  There  were  present 
Talbot  Ward  and  his  huge  satellite,  Munro;  Coleman,  quiet, 
grim,  complacent,  but  looking,  with  his  sweeping,  inky  mous 
tache  and  his  florid  complexion,  like  a  flashy  "sport";  Hoss- 
fros,  soon  to  become  an  historic  character;  and  the  banker, 
James  King  of  William. 

The  latter  had  recently  come  in  for  considerable  public  dis 
cussion.  He  had  for  some  time  conducted  a  banking  business, 
but  becoming  involved  in  difficulties,  he  had  turned  over  all 
his  assets,  all  his  personal  fortune,  even  his  dwelling-house,  to 
another  bank  "as  trustee  to  take  care  of  his  debts.  Almost 
immediately  after,  that  bank  had  failed.  Opinion  in  the  com 
munity  divided  according  to  the  interests  involved.  The 
majority  considered  that  King  had  been  almost  quixotically 
conscientious  in  stripping  himself;  but  there  did  not  lack  those 
who  accused  him  of  sharp  practice.  In  the  course  of  ensuing 
discussions  and  recriminations  King  was  challenged  to  a  duel. 
He  declined  to  fight,  basing  his  refusal  on  principle.  As  may 
be  imagined,  uich  an  action  at  such  a  time  was  even  more  widely 
commented  upon  than  even  his  refusal  to  take  advantage  of 
the  bankruptcy  laws.  It  was,  as  far  as  known,  the  first  time 
any  one  had  had  the  moral  courage  to  refuse  a  duel.  King 
had  gone  quietly  about  his  business,  taking  an  ordinary  clerk 
ship  with  Palmer,  Cook  &  Co.  In  the  eyes  of  the  discriminat- 

206 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  207 

ing  few  he  had  gained  prestige,  but  most  people  thought  him 
down  and  out. 

"What  do  you  think  of  our  new  Assistant  District  Attorney?" 
Ward  had  begun  the  conversation. 

''He's  a  lawyer,"  growled  Hossfros. 

"A  pretty  fairly  honest  one,  I  think,"  ventured  King.  "His 
training  may  be  wrong,  but  his  instincts  are  right." 

"Fat  chance  anything's  got  when  it  mixes  up  with  legalities," 
supplemented  Frank  Munro. 

"Nevertheless,"  remarked  Coleman  seriously,  "I  believe 
plain  justice  has  more  of  a  chance  with  him  in  charge  than  with 
another." 

"  What  sort  of  justice?  "  queried  King.  "  Commercial?  "  He 
laughed  in  answer  to  his  own  question.  "  Criminal?  I'd  like  to 
think  it,  gentlemen,  but  I  cannot.  You  know  as  well  as  I  do  that 
any  of  us  could  this  evening  go  into  the  streets,  select  our  victim, 
and  shoot  him  down  secure  in  the  knowledge  that  inconvenience 
is  all  the  punishment  we  need  expect — if  we  have  money  or 
friends.  Am  I  not  right,  Coleman?" 

Coleman  smiled  sardonically,  lifting  his  blue-black  moustache. 

"Were  Herod  for  the  slaughter  of  the  Innocents  brought  before 
a  jury  of  this  town,he  would  be  acquitted,"  he  said  half-seriously. 
"Judas  Iscariot  would  pass  unscathed  so  long  as  any  portion  of 
his  thirty  pieces  of  silver  remained  with  him." 

They  laughed  at  this  remarkable  pronouncement,  but  with  an 
undernote  of  seriousness. 

"No  man,  even  exceptionally  equipped  as  this  young  man 
seems  to  be,"  went  on  Coleman  after  a  moment,  "  can  accomplish 
that"— he  snapped  his  fingers — "against  organized  forces  such  as 
those  of  'Law  and  Order.' " 

"We  can't  stand  this  sort  of  thing  forever!"  cried  Hossfros 
hotly.  "  It's  getting  worse  and  worse ! " 

"We  probably  shall  not  stand  it  forever,"  agreed  Coleman 
equably,  "but  we  are  powerless — at  present." 

They  looked  toward  him  for  explanation  of  this  last. 

"When  the  people  at  large  find  that  they  cannot  stand  it 


208  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

either,  then  we  shall  be  no  longer  powerless.  A  single  man  can 
do  something  then — a  single  child!" 

"What  will  happen  then?"  asked  Munro.  "Vigilantes?  '51 
again?" 

Coleman,  the  leader  of  the  Vigilantes  of  '51,  turned  on  him  a 
grave  eye. 

"God  forbid!  We  were  then  a  frontier  community.  We  are 
now  an  organized,  civilized  city.  We  have  rights  and  powers 
through  the  regular  channels — at  the  ballot  box  for  example/* 

Hossfros  laughed  skeptically. 

"It  must  wait,"  continued  Coleman;  "it  must  wait  on  pub 
lic  opinion." 

"Well,"  spoke  up  King,  "it's  all  very  well  to  wait,  but  public 
opinion  left  to  itself  is  a  mighty  slow  growth.  It  should  be 
fostered.  The  newspapers " 

"Don't  let's  lose  our  sense  of  humour,"  cut  in  Talbot  Ward. 
"  Can  you  see  Charley  Nugent  or  Mike  Rowlee  crusading  for  the 
right?" 

"But  my  point  is  good,"  insisted  King.  "An  honest,  fearless 
editor,  not  afraid  to  call  a  spade  a  spade — 

"Would  be  shot,"  said  Coleman  briefly. 

"  The  chances  of  war,"  replied  King. 

"They  don't  grow  that  kind  around  here,"  grinned  Ward. 

"Well,"  concluded  Coleman,  "this  young  Keith  probably 
won't  help  any,  but  he's  going  to  be  interesting  to  watch,  just  the 
same,  to  see  what  he'll  do  the  first  time  they  crack  the  whip  over 
him.  That's  the  vital  point  as  far  as  he  is  concerned." 


XXXVI 

KEITH'S  activities  did  not  immediately  confront  him  with 
anything  in  the  nature  of  a  test,  however.  His  superiors 
confined  him  to  the  drawing  of  briefs  and  the  carrying 
through  of  carefully  selected  cases.  It  was  considered  well  to 
"  work  him  in  "  a  little  before  putting  responsibility  on  him. 

He  enjoyed  it,  for  now  he  had  at  his  call  all  the  civil  and  police 
resources  of  the  city.  This  gave  him  a  pleasant  f eelirg  of  power. 
He  was  at  the  centre  of  things.  And  through  his  office  he  came 
into  contact  with  ever-widening  circles  of  people,  all  of  whom 
were  disposed,  even  anxious,  to  treat  him  well,  to  get  in  his  good 
graces.  Possibly  most  of  these  were  what  we  would  call  the 
worst  elements;  and  by  that  we  would  mean  not  only  the  rough 
necks  of  the  police  or  sheriff's  offices,  but  also  the  punctilious, 
smooth-mannered  Southerners  who  practically  monopolized  the 
political  offices.  These  men  would  have  been  little  considered 
in  the  South;  in  fact,  in  many  cases,  they  had  left  their  native 
states  under  a  cloud  or  even  with  prison  records;  but  their  natural 
charm,  their  audacity,  and  their  great  punctilio  as  to  "honour" 
deeply  impressed  the  ordinary  citizen.  As  one  chronicler  of  the 
times  puts  it,  they  had  "  fluency  in  harangue,  vigour  in  invective, 
ostentatious  courage,  absolute  confidence  about  all  matters  of 
morals,  politics,  and  propriety" — which  is  an  excellent  thumb 
nail  sketch.  Many  of  these  ex-jailbirds  rose  to  wealth  and  in 
fluence,  so  that  to  this  day  the  sound  of  their  names  means 
aristocracy  and  birth  to  those  ignorant  of  local  history.  Their 
descendants  maybe  seen  to-day  ruffling  it  proudly  on  the  strength 
of  their  "birth!" 

They,  and  the  classes  they  directly  and  indirectly  encouraged, 
had  at  last  brought  the  city  fairly  on  the  financial  rocks.  There 

aog 


210  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

was  no  more  revenue.  Everything  taxable  had  been  taxed.  The 
poll  tax  was  out  of  all  reason;  property  paid  4  per  cent,  on  an 
actual  valuation;  theatres,  bankers,  brokers,  freight,  miners, 
merchants,  hotel  keepers,  incorporations,  every  form  of  industry 
was  levied  upon  heavily.  Still  that  was  not  enough.  Even 
labour  was  paid  now  in  scrip  so  depreciated  that  the  cost  of  the 
simplest  public  works  was  terrible. 

And  to  heap  up  the  measure,  the  year  of  1855  was  one  of 
financial  stringency.  The  season  of  '54-'55  had  been  one  of 
drought.  For  lack  of  water  most  of  the  mining  had  ceased.  The 
miners  wanted  to  be  trusted  for  their  daily  needs;  the  country 
stores  had  to  have  credit  because  the  miners  could  not  pay;  and 
so  on  up  to  the  wholesalers  in  the  city.  Goods  were  therefore 
sold  cheap  at  auction,  and  the  gold  went  East  to  pay  at  the  source. 
Money,  actual  physical  money,  became  scarce.  The  gold  was 
gone,  and  there  existed  no  institution  legally  entitled  to  issue  the 
paper  money  that  might  have  taken  its  place.  All  the  banking 
was  done  by  private  firms.  These  took  deposits,  made  loans, 
issued  exchange,  but  could  not  issue  banknotes. 

Still,  things  had  looked  a  bit  squally  many  times  before,  but 
nothing  had  happened.  Men  had  the  habit  of  optimism.  No 
one  stopped  to  analyze  the  situation,  to  realize  that  the  very 
good  reason  nothing  had  happened  was  that  the  city  had  always 
had  behind  it  the  strength  of  the  mines,  and  that  now  the  mines 
had  withdrawn. 

Out  of  a  clear  sky  came  the  announcement  that  Adams  &  Co. 
had  failed! 

At  first  nobody  believed  it.  Adams  &  Co.  had  occupied  in 
men's  minds  from  the  start  much  the  same  position  as  the  Bank 
of  England.  The  confirmation  of  the  news  caused  the  wildest 
panic  and  excitement.  If  Adams  &  Co.  were  vulnerable, 
nobody  was  secure.  Small  merchants  began  to  call  in  their 
credits.  The  city  caught  up  eagerly  every  item  of  news.  All 
the  assets  of  the  bankrupt  firm  were  turned  over  to  Alfred  Cohen 
as  receiver.  Some  interested  people  did  not  trust  Cohen.  They 
made  enough  of  a  fuss  to  get  H.  M.  Naglee  appointed  in  Cohen's 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  211 

place.  Naglee,  demanding  the  assets,  was  told  they  had  been 
deposited  with  Palmer,  Cook  &  Co.  The  latter  refused  to  give 
them  up,  denying  Naglee's  jurisdiction  in  the  matter.  The  case 
was  brought  into  court.  Then  suddenly  it  was  found  that 
Palmer,  Cook  &  Co.  had  mysteriously  lost  their  paramount 
interest  in  the  courts.  They  had  counted  on  the  case  being 
brought  before  their  own  judges;  but  it  was  cited  before  Judges 
Hazen  and  Park,  both  of  whom,  while  ultra-technical,  were 
honest.  The  truth  of  the  matter  was  that  the  rats  suspected 
Palmer,  Cook  &  Co.  of  sinking,  too,  and  had  deserted.  Judges 
Hazen  and  Park  called  upon  the  firm  to  turn  over  to  Naglee 
the  assets  of  Adams  &  Co.  They  still  refused.  One  of  the  part 
ners,  named  Jones,  and  Cohen  were  imprisoned.  Some  where 
$269,000  was  missing.  Nobody  knew  anything  about  it.  The 
books  having  to  do  with  the  transaction  had  mysteriously  dis 
appeared.  Two  days  later  an  Irishman  found  them  floating  in 
the  bay,  and  brought  them  to  the  court.  But  the  crucial  pages 
were  missing.  And  then  suddenly,  while  both  Judge  Hazen  and 
Judge  Park, were  out  of  town,  application  was  made  to  the 
Supreme  Court — of  which  Judge  Terry  was  head — for  the  release 
of  Jones  and  Cohen.  The  application  was  granted. 

So  an  immense  sum  of  money  disappeared;  nobody  was 
punished;  it  was  all  strictly  legal;  and  yet  the  dullest  labourer 
could  see  that  the  whole  transaction  amounted  to  robbery  under 
arms.  Failures  resulted  right  and  left.  Wells  Fargo  &  Co. 
closed  their  doors,  but  resumed  within  a  few  days.  A  great 
many  pocketbooks  were  hit.  There  was  much  talk  and  excite 
ment. 


XXXVII 

ON  AN  evening  in  October,  returning  home  at  an  early 
hour,  Keith  found  Nan  indignant  and  excited.  She  held 
in  her  hand  a  tiny  newspaper,  not  half  the  usual  size, 
consisting  only  of  a  single  sheet  folded. 

"  Have  you  seen  this?"  she  burst  out  as  Keith  entered.  "  Isn't 
it  outrageous!" 

Keith  was  tired,  and  sank  into  an  easy  chair  with  a  sigh  of 
relaxation. 

"No,  what  is  it?"  he  asked,  reaching  his  hand  for  the  paper. 
"  Oh,  the  newpaper.  I  saw  them  selling  it  on  the  street  yesterday." 

It  was  the  Bulletin,  VoLi,  No.  2.  Like  all  papers  of  that  day, 
and  like  some  of  the  English  papers  now,  its  first  page  was 
completely  covered  with  small  advertisements.  A  thin  driblet 
of  short  local  items  occupied  a  column  on  the  third  and  fourth 
pages,  a  single  column  of  editorial  on  the  second. 

"Seems  a  piffling  little  sheet,"  he  observed,  "to  be  read  in 
about  eight  seconds  by  any  one  not  interested  in  advertisements. 
What  is  it  that  agitates  you,  Nan?  " 

"  Read  that."    She  pointed  to  the  editorial. 

The  article  in  question  proved  to  be  an  attack  on  Palmer,  Cook 
&  Co.  It  said  nothing  whatever  about  the  Cohen-Naglee 
robbery.  Its  subject  was  the  excessive  rentals  charged  the 
public  by  Palmer,  Cook  &  Co.  for  postal  boxes.  But  it  men 
tioned  names,  recorded  specific  instances,  avoided  generalities, 
and  stated  plainly  that  this  was  merely  beginning  at  the  be 
ginning  in  an  expose  of  the  methods  of  these  "  Uriah  Keeps." 

"Why  do  they  permit  such  things? "  cried  Nan,  scarcely  wait 
ing  for  Keith  to  finish  his  reading.  "What  is  Mr.  Palmer  going 
to  do  about  it?" 


212 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  213 

"Survive,  I  guess,"  replied  Keith,  with  a  grin.  "I  take  back 
my  opinion  of  the  paper.  It  certainly  has  life."  He  turned  to  the 
head  of  the  page.  " Hullo ! "  he  cried  hi  surprise.  "James  King 
of  William  running  this,  eh?"  He  whistled,  then  laughed. 
"  That  promises  to  be  interesting,  sure.  He  was  in  business  with 
that  crowd  for  some  time.  He  ought  to  have  information  from 
the  inside!" 

"Mrs.  Palmer  is  simply  furious,"  said  Nan. 

"  I'll  bet  she  is.    Are  we  invited  out  this  evening?  " 

"The  Thurstons'  musicale.  I  thought  you'd  be  interested  in 
that." 

"Let  me  off,  Nan,  that's  a  good  fellow,"  pleaded  Keith,  whose 
weariness  had  vanished.  "I'd  be  delighted  to  go  at  any  other 
time.  But  this  is  too  rich.  I  must  see  what  the  gang  has  to 
say." 

"I  suppose  I  could  drop  Ben  Sansome  a  note,"  assented  Nan 
doubtfully. 

"Do!  Send  the  Chink  around  with  it,"  urged  Keith,  rising. 
"I'll  get  a  bite  downtown  and  not  bother  you." 

The  gang — as  indeed  the  whole  city — took  it  as  a  great  joke. 
Of  those  Keith  met,  only  Jones,  the  junior  partner,  failed  to  see 
the  humour,  and  he  passed  the  affair  off  in  cavalier  fashion.  That 
did  not  save  him  from  the  obligation  of  setting  up  the  drinks. 

"I'm  going  to  fix  this  thing  up  in  the  morning,"  he  stated  con 
fidently.  "Between  you  and  me,  there's  evidently  been  a  slip 
somewhere.  Of  course  it  ought  never  to  have  been  allowed  to  go 
so  far.  I'll  see  this  man  King  first  thing  in  the  morning,  and 
buy  him  off.  Undoubtedly  that's  about  the  only  reason  his  paper 
exists.  Wonder  where  he  got  the  money  to  start  it?  He's 
busted.  It  can't  last  long." 

"If  it  keeps  up  the  present  gait,  it'll  last,"  said  Judge  Caldwell 
shrewdly.  "Me — I'm  going  to  send  in  a  subscription  to 
morrow.  Wouldn't  miss  it  for  anything." 

"It'll  last  as  long  as  he  does,"  growled  Terry,  "and  that'll  be 
about  as  long  as  a  snowball  in  hell.  What  you  ought  to  do, 
Jones,  is  what  any  man  of  spirit  ought  to  do — call  him  out!" 


214  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

"He  announces  definitely  that  he  won't  fight  duels,"  said 
Calhoun  Bennett. 

"Then  treat  him  like  the  cowardly  hound  he  is,"  flared  the  un 
compromising  Terry.  "Take  the  whip  to  him;  and  if  that  isn't 
effective,  shoot  him  down  as  you  would  any  other  mad  dog!" 

"Surely,  that's  a  little  extreme,  Judge,"  expostulated  Cald- 
well  "He  hasn't  done  anything  worse  than  stir  up  Jonesy  a 
little." 

"But  he  will,  sir,"  insisted  Terry,  "you  mark  my  words.  If 
you  give  him  line,  he'll  not  only  hang  himself,  but  he'll  rope  in  a 
lot  of  bystanders  as  well." 

"I'll  bet  he  sells  a  lot  of  papers  to-morrow,  anyhow,"  pre 
dicted  Keith. 

"I  hope  so,"  bragged  Jones.  "There'll  be  the  more  to  read 
his  apology." 

Evidently  Jones  fulfilled  his  promise,  and  quite  as  evidently 
Keith's  prediction  was  verified.  Every  man  on  the  street  had  a 
copy  of  the  next  day's  Bulletin  within  twenty  minutes  of  issue. 

A  roar  of  delight  went  up.  Jones's  visit  was  reported  simply 
as  an  item  of  news,  faithfully,  sarcastically,  and  pompously. 
There  was  no  comment.  Even  the  most  faithful  partisans  of 
Palmer,  Cook  &  Co.  had  to  grin  at  the  effectiveness  of  this  new 
way  of  meeting  the  impact  of  such  a  visit. 

"It's  clever  journalism,"  Terry  admitted,  "but  it's  black 
guardly;  and  I  blame  Jones  for  passing  it  over." 

The  fourth  number — eagerly  purchased — proved  more  in 
teresting  because  of  its  hints  of  future  disclosures  rather  than 
for  its  actual  information.  Broderick  was  mentioned  by  name. 
The  attention  of  the  city  marshal  was  succinctly  called  to  the 
disorderly  houses  and  the  statutes  concerning  them;  and  it  was 
added,  "for  his  information,"  that  at  a  certain  address  a  struc 
ture  was  actually  building  at  a  cost  of  $30,000  for  improper 
purposes.  Then  followed  a  list  of  personal  bonds  and  sureties 
for  which  Palmer,  Cook  &  Co.  were  standing  voucher,  amount 
ing  to  over  two  millions. 

The   expectations  of  disclosures,   thus  aroused,   were,   nqt 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  1\$ 

immediately  gratified,  except  in  the  case  of  Broderick.  His 
swindles  in  the  matters  of  the  Jenny  Lind  Theatre  and  the  City 
Hall  were  traced  out  in  detail.  Every  one  knew  these  things 
were  done,  but  nobody  knew  just  how;  so  these  disclosures 
made  interesting  reading  if  only  as  food  for  natural  curiosity. 
However,  the  tension  somewhat  relaxed.  It  was  generally 
considered  that  the  coarse  fibre  of  the  ex-stone-cutter,  the  old 
Tammany  heeler,  and  the  thick  skins  of  his  political  adherents 
could  stand  this  sort  of  thing.  Nobody  with  a  sensitive  honour 
to  protect  was  assailed. 

The  position  of  the  new  paper  was  by  now  firmly  established. 
It  had  a  large  subscription  list;  it  was  eagerly  bought  on  the 
streets;  and  its  advertising  was  increasing.  King  again  turned 
his  attention  to  Palmer,  Cook  &  Co.  Each  day  he  treated  suc 
cinctly,  clearly,  without  rhetoric,  some  branch  of  their  business. 
By  the  time  he  had  finished  with  them  he  had  not  only  exposed 
their  iniquities,  he  had  educated  the  public  to  an  understanding 
of  the  financial  methods  of  the  times.  His  tilting  at  this  bank 
ing  firm  had  inevitably  led  him  to  criticism  of  certain  of  their 
subterfuges  to  avoid  or  take  advantage  of  the  law;  and  that  as 
inevitably  brought  him  to  analysis  and  condemnation  of  the 
firm's  legal  advisers,  James,  Doyle,  Barber  &  Boyd,  a  firm  which 
had  heretofore  enjoyed  a  good  reputation.  Incidentally  he 
called  attention  to  duelling,  venal  newspapers,  city  sales,  gam 
bling,  Billy  Mulligan,  Wooley  Kearney,  Casey,  Cora,  Yankee 
Sullivan,  Martin  Gallagher,  Tom  Cunningham,  Ned  McGowan, 
Charles  Duane,  and  many  other  worthies,  both  of  high  and  low 
degree.  Never  did  he  fear  to  name  names  and  cite  specific 
instances  plainly.  James  King  of  William  dealt  in  no  innuendoes. 
He  had  found  in  himself  the  editor  he  had  wished  for,  the  man 
who  would  call  a  spade  a  spade. 

The  Bulletin  twice  enlarged  its  form.  It  sold  by  the  thou 
sand.  Its  weapon  of  defence  was  the  same  as  its  weapon  of 
offence — pitiless  and  complete  publicity.  Measures  of  reprisal, 
either  direct  or  underhand,  undertaken  against  him,  King  pub 
lished  often  without  comment. 


216  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

At  the  first  some  of  the  cooler  heads  thought  it  might  be  well 
to  reason  with  him. 

"The  man  has  runamuck,"  said  old  Judge  Girvin,  "and  while 
I  am  far  from  denying  that  in  many— perhaps  in  most — cases 
his  facts  are  correct,  still  his  methods  make  for  lawlessness  among 
the  masses.  It  might  be  well  to  meet  him  reasonably,  and  to 
expostulate." 

"I'd  expostulate — with  a  blacksnake,"  growled  the  fiery 
Terry. 

A  number  waited  on  King.  Keith  was  among  them.  They 
found  his  office  in  a  small  ramshackle  frame  building,  situated 
in  the  middle  instead  of  alongside  one  of  the  back  streets.  It 
had  probably  been  one  of  the  early  small  dwelling-houses,  ma 
rooned  by  a  resurvey  of  the  streets,  and  never  since  moved. 
King  sat  in  his  shirtsleeves  before  a  small  flat  table.  He  looked 
up  at  them  uncompromisingly  from  his  wide-apart  steady  eyes. 

"Gentlemen,"  he  greeted  them  tentatively. 

Judge  Girvin  seated  himself  impressively,  his  fat  legs  well 
apart,  his  beaver  hat  and  cane  poised  in  his  left  hand;  the  others 
grouped  themselves  back  of  him.  The  judge  stated  the  moder 
ate  case  well.  "  We  do  not  deny  any  man  the  right  to  his  opin 
ion,"  he  concluded,  "  but  have  you  reflected  on  the  effect  such  an 
expression  often  has  on  the  minds  of  those  not  trained  to  con 
trol?" 

King  listened  to  him  in  silence. 

"It  seems  to  me,  sir,"  he  answered,  when  Judge  Girvin  had 
quite  finished,  "  that  if  abuses  exist  they  should  be  exposed  until 
they  are  remedied;  and  that  the  remedy  should  come  from  the 
law." 

"What  is  your  impelling  motive?"  asked  the  judge.  "Why 
have  you  so  suddenly  taken  up  this  form  of  activity?  Do  you 
feel  aggrieved  in  any  way— personally  ?" 

"My  motive  in  starting  a  newspaper,  if  that  is  what  you 
mean,  is  the  plain  one  of  making  an  honest  if  modest  living. 
And,  incidentally,  while  doing  so,  I  have  some  small  idea  of  being 
of  public  use.  I  have  no  personal  grievance ;  but  I  am  aggrieved, 


KING  LISTENED  TO  HIM  IN  SILENCE 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  217 

as  every  decent  man  must  be,  at  the  way  the  lawyers,  the  big 
financial  operators,  and  the  other  blackguards  have  robbed  the 
city,"  stated  King  plainly. 

judge  Girvin,  flushing,  arose  with  dignity. 

"I  wish  you  good-day,  sir,"  he  said  coldly,  and  at  once  with 
drew. 

Keith  had  been  watching  King  with  the  keenly  critical,  de 
tached,  analytical  speculation  of  the  lawyer.  He  carried  away 
with  him  the  impression  of  a  man  inspired. 

At  the  engine  house,  to  which  the  discomfited  delegation  with 
drew,  there  was  more  discussion. 

"The  man  is  within  his  legal  rights  so  far,"  stated  Judge 
Girvin.  "If  any  of  his  statements  are  libellous,  it  is  the  duty  of 
the  man  so  libelled  to  institute  action  in  the  courts." 

"He's  too  smooth  for  that,"  growled  Jones. 

"He'll  bite  off  more  than  he  can  chew,  if  he  keeps  on,"  said 
Dick  Blatchford  comfortably.  "He's  stirring  up  hornets'  nests 
when  he  monkeys  with  men  like  Yankee  Sullivan.  He's  about 
due  for  an  awful  scare,  one  of  these  days,  and  then  he'll  be  good." 

"Do  you  know,  I  don't  believe  he'll  scare,"  said  Keith  sud 
denly,  with  conviction. 


XXXVIII 

AS  KEITH  surmised,  intimidation  had  no  effect.  In  such  a 
l\  city  of  fire-eaters  it  was  promptly  tried.  A  dozen  pub- 
JL  JL.  lically  announced  that  they  thirsted  for  his  blood,  and 
intended  to  have  it;  and  the  records  of  the  dozen  were  of  de 
termination  and  courage  in  such  matters.  In  the  gambling  re 
sorts  and  on  the  streets  bets  were  made  and  pools  formed  on  the 
probable  duration  of  King's  life.  He  took  prompt  notice  of  this 
fact.  Said  the  Bulletin's  editorial  column: 

Bets  are  now  being  offered,  we  are  told,  that  the  editor  of  die 
Bulletin  will  not  be  in  existence  twenty  days  longer,  and  the  case 
of  Doctor  Hogan,  of  the  Vicksburg  paper,  who  was  murdered  by 
gamblers  of  that  place,  is  cited  as  a  warning.  Pah!  War,  then, 
is  the  cry,  is  it?  War  between  the  prostitutes  and  gamblers  on 
one  side,  and  the  virtuous  and  respectable  on  the  other!  Be  it 
so,  then!  Gamblers  of  San  Francisco,  you  have  made  your 
election,  and  we  are  ready  on  our  side  for  the  issue! 

Keith  read  this  over  John  Sherwood's  shoulder  at  the  Monu 
mental.  The  ex-gambler,  his  famous  benign  spectacles  atop  his 
nose,  chuckled  over  it. 

"He  doesn't  scare  for  a  cent,  does  he?"  was  his  comment. 
"Strikes  me  I  got  out  of  the  ranks  of  the  ungodly  just  in  time. 
If  I  were  still  gambling,  I  believe  I'd  take  some  of  those  bets  he 
speaks  of.  He  won't  last — in  this  town.  But  I  like  his  pluck 
— kind  of.  Only  he's  damn  bad  for  business ! ' ' 

Saying  which,  John  Sherwood,  late  gambler  but  now  sincerely 
believing  himself  a  sound  and  conservative  business  man,  passed 
the  sheet  over  to  Keith. 

From  vague  threats  the  situation  developed  rapidly  to  the 
definite  and  personal.  One  Selover  sent  a  challenge  to  King, 

218 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  219 

which  was  refused.     Selover  then  announced  his  intention  of 
killing  King  on  sight.    The  Bulletin  published  this: 

Mr.  Selover,  it  is  said,  carries  a  knife.  We  carry  a  pistol. 
We  hope  neither  will  be  required,  but  if  this  encounter  cannot  be 
avoided,  why  will  Mr.  Selover  insist  on  imperilling  the  lives  of 
others?  We  pass  every  afternoon,  about  half-past  four  to  five 
o'clock,  along  Market  Street  from  Fourth  to  Fifth  streets.  The 
road  is  wide,  and  not  so  much  frequented  as  those  streets 
farther  in  town.  If  we  are  to  be  shot  or  cut  to  pieces,  for  heaven's 
sake  let  it  be  done  there.  Others  will  not  be  injured,  and  in  case 
we  fall,  our  house  is  but  a  few  hundred  yards  beyond,  and  the 
cemetery  not  much  farther. 

These  detailed  attacks  and  bold  defiances  had  the  effect 
of  greatly  angering  those  who  were  the  specific  objects  of  at 
tention;  of  making  very  uneasy  the  class  to  which  these  victims 
belonged;  of  focussing  on  public  matters  a  public  sentiment 
that  was  just  becoming  conscious  of  itself  because  of  the  pinch 
of  hard  times;  and  of  rendering  contemptuously  indignant  all 
of  "higher"  society. 

To  this  latter  category  Keith  would  undoubtedly  have  be 
longed — as  did  his  wife  and  practically  all  his  friends — had  it 
not  been  for  his  association  with  Krafft.  Through  him  the 
young  lawyer  came  into  intimate  personal  touch  with  a  large 
class  of  people  who  would  otherwise  have  been  remote  from  him. 
He  heard  of  their  difficulties  and  problems  at  first  hand,  saw 
the  actual  effect  of  abuses  that,  looked  at  from  above,  were 
abstract  or  academic.  Police  brutality  as  a  phrase  carried 
little  significance;  police  brutality  as  a  clubbing  of  Malachi 
Hogan,  who  was  brought  hi  with  his  skull  crushed,  and  whose 
blood  stained  Keith's  new  coat,  meant  something.  Waste  of 
public  funds,  translated  before  his  eyes  into  eviction  for  non 
payment  of  taxes,  took  on  a  new  significance.  Keith  saw  plainly 
that  a  reform  was  needed.  He  was  not,  on  that  account,  in 
the  least  sympathetic  with  King's  methods.  Like  Judge  Girvin, 
he  felt  them  revolutionary  and  subversive.  But  he  could  not 


220  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

share  the  contempt  of  his  class;  rather  he  respected  the  editor 
as  a  sincere  but  mistaken  man.  When  his  name  came  up  for 
discussion  or  bitter  vituperation,  Keith  was  silent.  He  read 
the  Bulletin  editorials;  and  while  he  in  no  way  endorsed  their 
conclusions  or  recommendations,  he  could  not  but  acknowledge 
their  general  accuracy.  Without  his  knowing  it,  he  was  being 
educated.  He  came  to  realize  the  need  for  better  administra 
tion  by  the  city's  officers  and  a  better  enforcement  of  the  laws. 
Very  quietly,  deep  down  within  himself,  he  made  up  his  mind 
that  in  the  Assistant  District  Attorney's  office,  at  least,  the  old 
order  of  things  should  cease. 


XXXIX 

ONE  afternoon  Keith  walked  down  Kearney  Street  deep 
in  discussion  of  an  important  Federal  case  with  his 
friend,  Billy  Richardson,  the  United  States  Marshal. 
Although  both  just  and  an  official,  Richardson  was  popular 
with  all  classes  save  those  with  whom  his  duty  brought  him  into 
conflict.  They  found  their  way  deliberately  blocked,  and  came 
out  of  the  absorption  of  their  discussion  to  recognize  before  them 
Charles  Cora,  an  Italian  gambler  of  considerable  prominence 
and  wealth.  Cora  was  a  small,  dark  man,  nervously  built, 
dressed  neatly  and  carefully  in  the  height  of  gambler  fashion. 
He  seemed  to  be  terribly  excited,  and  at  once  launched  a  stream 
of  oaths  at  Richardson. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you,  Charley?"  asked  the  latter, 
as  soon  as  he  had  recovered  from  his  surprise. 

Cora,  evidently  too  incoherent  to  speak,  leaped  at  the  mar 
shal,  his  fist  drawn  back.  Keith  seized  him  around  the  body, 
holding  his  arms  to  his  sides. 

"Hold  on;  take  it  easy!"  he  panted.    "What's  up,  anyway?" 

Cora,  struggling  violently,  gritted  out: 

"He  knows  damn  well  what's  up." 

"I'll  swear  I  don't!"  denied  Richardson. 

"Then  what  do  you  mean  telling  every  one  that  my  Belle 
insulted  your  wife  last  night  at  the  opera  house?"  demanded 
Cora,  ceasing  to  struggle. 

"Belle? "  repeated  Richardson  equably.  "I  don't  know  what 
you're  talking  about.  Be  reasonable.  Explain  yourself." 

"Yes,  I  got  it  straight,"  insisted  the  Italian.  "Your  wife 
says  it  insults  her  to  sit  next  to  my  Belle,  and  you  go  everywhere 
telling  it.  What  right  you  got  to  do  that?  Answer  me  that!" 


221 


222  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

"Now  look  here,"  said  Richardson.  "I  was  with  Jim  Scott 
all  last  evening.  My  wife  wasn't  with  me.  If  you  don't  be 
lieve  me,  go  ask  Scotty." 

Cora  had  apparently  cooled  off,  so  Keith  released  him.  He 
shook  his  head,  grumbling,  only  half  convinced.  After  a  mo 
ment  he  moved  away.  The  two  men  watched  him  go,  half 
vexed,  half  amused. 

"He's  crazy  as  a  pup  about  that  woman,"  observed  Richard 
son. 

"  Who  is  she?  "  inquired  Keith. 

"Why,  Belle — you  know  Belle,  the  one  who  keeps  that  crib 
up  your  way." 

"That  woman!"  marvelled  Keith. 

He  spent  the  afternoon  in  court  and  in  his  office.  About 
half-past  six,  on  his  way  home,  he  saw  Cora  and  Richardson 
come  out  of  the  Blue  Wing  saloon  together.  They  were  talking 
earnestly,  and  stopped  in  the  square  of  light  from  the  window. 
Richardson  was  explaining,  and  Cora  was  listening  sullenly. 
As  Keith  passed  them  he  heard  the  marshal  say,  "Well,  is  it 
all  right?"  and  Cora  reply,  "Yes."  Something  caused  him  to 
look  back  after  he  had  gone  a  dozen  yards.  He  saw  Cora  sud 
denly  seize  Richardson's  collar  with  his  left  hand,  at  the  same 
time  drawing  a  derringer  with  his  right. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?"  cried  Richardson  loudly  and 
steadily,  without  struggling.  "Don't  shoot;  I  am  unarmed!" 

Without  reply  Cora  fired  into  his  breast.  The  marshal 
wilted,  but  with  iron  strength  Cora  continued  for  several  mo 
ments  to  hold  up  his  victim  by  the  collar.  Then  he  let  the  body 
drop,  and  moved  away  at  a  fast  walk,  the  derringer  still  in  his 
right  hand. 

Keith  ran  to  his  friend,  and  with  others  carried  him  into  a 
nearby  drug  store.  The  sound  of  the  shot  almost  immediately 
brought  out  a  crowd.  Keith,  bending  over  the  body  of  the 
murdered  man,  could  see  them  pressing  about  the  windows  out 
side,  their  faces  showing  white  from  the  lamps  in  the  drug-store 
window  or  fading  into  the  darkness  beyond.  They  crowded 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  223 

through  the  doorway  until  driven  out  again  by  some  of  the 
cooler  heads.  Conjectures  and  inquiries  flew  thick.  All  sorts 
of  reports  were  current  of  the  details,  but  the  crowd  had  the 
main  facts — Cora  had  shot  Richardson,  Richardson  was  dead, 
Cora  had  been  taken  to  jail. 

"Then  he's  safe! "  they  sneered  savagely. 

Men  had  been  shot  on  the  streets  before,  many  men,  some 
of  them  as  well  known  and  liked  as  Richardson;  but  not  after 
public  sentiment  had  been  aroused  as  the  Bulletin  had  aroused 
it.  The  crowds  continued  to  gather.  Several  men  made  vio 
lent  street-corner  speeches.  There  was  some  talk  of  lynching. 
A  storm  of  yes  and  no  burst  forth  when  the  question  was 
put.  Bells  rang.  A  great  mob  surged  to  the  jail,  were  firmly 
met  by  a  strong  armed  guard,  and  fell  back  muttering. 

'  *  Who  will  be  the  next  vie tim  ?  "  men  asked.  ' '  What  a  f  arce ! ' ' 
cried  some,  in  deep  disgust.  "Why,  the  jailer  is  Cora's  especial 
crony!"  stated  others,  who  seemed  to  know.  "If  the  jury  is 
packed,  hang  the  jury!"  advised  certain  far-seeing  ones.  A 
grim,  quiet,  black-bearded  man  expressed  the  undercurrent  of 
opinion:  "Mark  my  words,"  said  he,  "if  Charles  Cora  is  left 
for  trial,  he  will  be  let  loose  on  the  community  to  assassinate  his 
third  victim!"  It  seemed  that  Cora  had  been  involved  in  a 
previous  shooting  scrape.  But  to  swing  a  mob  to  action  there 
must  be  determined  men  at  its  head,  and  this  mob  had  no 
leaders.  Sam  Brannan  started  to  say  something  in  his  coarse, 
roaring  voice,  and  was  promptly  arrested  for  inciting  a  riot. 
Nobody  cared  enough  seriously  for  the  redoubtable  Sam  to 
object  to  this.  The  situation  was  ticklish,  but  the  police  handled 
it  tactfully  for  once,  opposing  only  a  passive  opposition,  leaving 
the  crowd  to  fritter  its  energies  in  purposeless  cursing,  surging 
to  and  fro,  and  in  harmless  threats. 

<Keith  did  not  join  the  throngs  on  the  streets.  Having  deter 
mined  that  Richardson  was  dead,  he  accompanied  the  body 
home.  He  was  deeply  stirred,  not  only  by  the  circumstances 
of  the  murder,  but  also  by  the  scene  at  which  he  had  to  assist 
when  the  news  must  be  broken  to  Mrs.  Richardson.  From  the 


224  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

house  he  went  directly  to  King's  residence,  where  he  was  told 
that  the  editor  had  gone  downtown.  After  considerable  search 
and  inquiry  he  at  last  got  sight  of  his  man  standing  atop  a 
wooden  awning  overlooking  the  Plaza  in  front  of  the  jail.  King 
nodded  to  him  as  he  climbed  out  of  the  second-story  window 
to  take  Ms  position  at  the  newspaper  man's  side. 

The  square  was  a  wild  sight,  filled,  packed  with  men,  a  crowd 
of  men  tossed  in  constant  motion.  A  mumbling  growl  came 
from  them  continuously,  and  occasionally  a  shout.  Many 
hands  were  upraised,  and  in  some  of  them  were  weapons.  Op 
posite,  the  blank  front  of  the  jail. 

King's  eyes  were  shining  with  interest  and  a  certain  quiet 
exultation,  but  he  seemed  not  at  all  excited. 

"  Will  they  storm  the  jail?  "  asked  Keith. 

King  shook  his  head. 

"No,  these  people  will  do  nothing.  But  they  show  the  spirit 
of  the  time.  All  it  needs  now  is  organization,  cool,  deliberate 
organization — to-morrow. ' ' 

"That's  just  what  I've  hunted  you  out  to  talk  about,"  said 
Keith  earnestly.  "There  is  much  talk  of  a  Vigilance  Commit 
tee.  As  you  say,  all  it  needs  is  the  call.  That  means  lawless 
ness,  bloodshed." 

"Conditions  at  present  are  intolerable,"  said  King  briefly. 

"I  agree  with  you,"  replied  Keith.  King  stared.  "But 
in  this  case  I  assure  you  the  law  will  do  its  duty.  It  is  an  ab 
solutely  open  and  shut  case.  Acquittal  is  impossible.  Why, 
I  myself  was  witness  of  the  affair." 

King  looked  skeptical. 

"Hundreds  of  such  cases  have  been  acquitted,  or  the  indict 
ment  quashed." 

"But  this  is  entirely  different.  In  the  first  place,  the  case 
will  come  before  Judge  Norton  and  Judge  Hazen,  both  of  whom 
you  will  acknowledge  are  honest.  In  the  second  place,  this 
case  will  be  in  my  hands  as  Assistant  District  Attorney.  I  my 
self  shall  do  the  prosecuting,  and  I  promise  you  on  my  honour 
that  every  effort  will  be  made  for  a  deserved  and  speedy  con- 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  225 

viction.  I  acknowledge  justice  has  sometimes  gone  wrong 
in  the  past ;  but  that  has  not  been  the  fault  of  the  law,  but  of  the 
administration  of  the  law.  If  you  have  the  least  confidence  in 
Judge  Norton  and  Judge  Hazen,  and  if  you  can  be  brought  to 
believe  me,  you  will  see  that  this  one  case  of  all  cases  should 
not  be  taken  from  the  constituted  authorities  or  made  the  basis 
for  a  movement  outside  the  law." 

"  Well?"  said  King,  half  convinced. 

"The  Bulletin  has  the  greatest  influence  with  these  people. 
Use  it.  Give  the  law,  the  honest  law,  a  chance.  Do  not  get 
back  of  any  Vigilante  movement.  In  that  way,  I  am  convinced, 
you  will  be  of  the  greatest  public  service." 

Next  day  the  Bidletin  came  out  vigorously  counselling  de 
pendence  on  the  law,  expressing  confidence  in  the  integrity 
of  Hazen  and  Norton,  and  enunciating  a  personal  belief  that 
the  day  had  passed  when  it  would  be  necessary  to  resort  to 
arbitrary  measures.  The  mob's  anger  had  possessed  vitality 
enough  to  keep  it  up  all  night;  but  the  attitude  of  the  Btdletin, 
backed  by  responsible  men  like  Ward,  Coleman,  Hossfros, 
Bluxome,  and  others,  averted  a  crisis.  Nevertheless,  King 
added  a  paragraph  of  warning: 

Hang  Billy  Mulligan!  That's  the  word!  If  Mr.  Sheriff 
Scannell  does  not  remove  Billy  Mulligan  from  his  present  post  as 
keeper  of  the  county  jail,  and  Mulligan  lets  Cora  escape,  hang 
Billy  Mulligan,  and  if  necessary  to  get  rid  of  the  sheriff,  hang 
him — hang  the  sheriff! 


XL 

THE  popular  excitement  gradually  died.     It  had  no  leaders, 
Coleman  and  men  of  his  stamp,  who  had  taken  com 
mand  of  similar  crises  in  former  times,  counselled  modera 
tion.     They  were  influenced  partly  by  the  fact  that  Richardson 
had  been  a  public  official    and  a  popular  one.     Conviction 
seemed  certain. 

Keith  applied  himself  heart  and  soul  to  the  case.  Its  prepa 
ration  seemed  to  him  at  first  an  easy  matter.  It  was  open  and 
shut.  Although  at  the  moment  of  the  murder  the  street  had  not 
been  crowded,  a  half-dozen  eye-witnesses  of  the  actual  shooting 
were  easily  found,  willing  to  testify  to  the  essential  facts.  No 
defence  seemed  possible,  but  Cora  remained  undisturbed.  He 
had  retained  one  of  the  most  brilliant  lawyers  of  the  time,  James 
McDougall.  This  fact  in  itself  might  have  warned  Keith,  for 
McDougall  had  the  reputation  of  avoiding  lost  causes  and  empty 
purses.  The  lawyer  promptly  took  as  counsel  the  most  brilliant 
of  the  younger  men,  Jimmy  Ware,  Allyn  Lane,  and  Keith's 
friend,  Calhoun  Bennett.  This  meant  money,  and  plenty  of  it, 
for  all  of  these  were  expensive  men.  The  exact  source  of  the 
money  was  uncertain;  but  it  was  known  that  Belle  was  advancing 
liberally  for  her  lover,  and  that  James  Casey,  bound  by  some 
mysterious  obligation,  was  active  in  taking  up  collections.  Cora 
lived  in  great  luxury  at  the  jail.  He  had  long  been  a  personal 
friend  of  Sheriff  Webb  and  his  first  deputy,  Billy  Mulligan. 

Several  months  passed  before  the  case  could  be  forced  to  trial. 
All  sorts  of  legal  and  technical  expedients  were  used  to  defer 
action.  McDougall  and  his  legal  assistants  were  skilful  players 
at  the  game,  and  the  points  they  advanced  had  to  be  fought  out 
according  to  the  rules,  each  a  separate  little  case  with  plenty  of 

226 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  227 

its  own  technicalities.  Some  of  Keith's  witnesses  were  difficult 
to  hold;  they  had  business  elsewhere,  and  naturally  resented 
being  compelled,  through  no  fault  of  their  own,  to  remain. 
Keith  had  always  looked  on  this  play  of  legal  rapiers  as  a  part — • 
an  interesting  part — of  the  game;  but  heretofore  he  had  always 
been  on  the  obstructing  side.  He  worried  a  great  deal.  At 
length,  by  superhuman  efforts,  he  broke  through  the  thicket  of 
technicalities  and  brought  the  matter  to  an  issue.  The  day  was 
set.  He  returned  home  so  relieved  in  spirit  that  Nan  could  not 
but  remark  on  his  buoyancy. 

"Yes,"  he  responded,  "I've  managed  to  drive  that  old  rascal, 
McDougall,  into  the  open  at  last." 

Nan  caught  at  the  epithet. 

"But  you  don't  mean  that — quite — do  you?"  she  asked. 
"The  McDougalls  are  such  delightful  people." 

"No,  of  course  not.  Just  law  talk,"  said  Keith,  quite  sin 
cerely.  "  He's  handled  his  case  well  up  to  now.  I'm  just  exas 
perated  on  that  account,  that's  all." 

But  setting  the  day  irrevocably  was  only  a  beginning.  The 
jury  had  to  be  selected.  Sheriff  Webb  had  in  his  hands  the 
calling  of  the  venire.  While  it  was  true  that  the  old-time,  "pro 
fessional  jurymen  " — men  who  hung  around  the  courthouse  for  no 
other  purpose — were  no  longer  in  existence,  it  can  be  readily 
seen  that  Webb  was  able,  if  it  were  worth  while,  to  exercise  a 
judicious  eye  in  the  selection  of  "amenables."  The  early  ex 
haustion  of  Keith's  quota  of  peremptory  challenges  was  signifi 
cant,  for  McDougall  rarely  found  it  desirable  to  challenge  at  all ! 
Keith  displayed  tremendous  resource  in  last-moment  detective 
work  concerning  the  records  of  the  panel.  In  this  way  he  was 
enabled  to  challenge  several  for  cause,  after  all  his  peremptory 
challenges  had  been  used.  At  first  he  had  great  difficulty  in 
getting  results,  for  the  police  detectives  proved  supine.  It  was 
only  after  he  had  hired  private  agents,  paying  for  them  from  his 
own  pocket,  that  he  obtained  information  on  which  he  could  act. 
The  final  result  was  a  jury  better  than  he  had  dared  hope  for,  but 
worse  than  he  desired.  He  had  gone  through  a  tremendous 


228  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

labour,  and  realized  fully  the  difference  between  being  for  or 
against  the  powers. 

The  case  came  to  trial.  Keith  presented  six  witnesses — 
respectable,  one  of  them  well-known.  These  testified  to  the  same 
simple  facts,  and  their  testimony  remained  unshaken  under  cross- 
examination.  McDougall  offered  the  plea  of  self-defence.  He 
brought  a  cloud  of  witnesses  to  swear  that  Cora  had  drawn  his 
weapon  only  after  Richardson  had  produced  and  cocked  a  pistol. 
By  skilful  technical  delays  Keith  gained  time  for  his  detectives, 
and  succeeded  in  showing  that  two  of  these  witnesses  had  been 
elsewhere  at  the  time  of  the  killing,  and  therefore  had  perjured 
themselves.  He  recalled  his  own  witnesses,  and  found  two 
willing  to  swear  that  Richardson's  hands  had  been  empty  and 
hanging  at  his  sides.  The  defence  did  not  trouble  to  cross- 
examine  this  statement. 

At  last,  with  a  perfunctory  judicial  charge,  the  case  went  to  the 
jury.  Keith,  weary  to  the  bone,  sat  back  in  grateful  relaxation. 
He  had  worked  hard,  against  odds,  and  had  done  a  good  job.  He 
was  willing  now  to  spare  a  little  professional  admiration  for 
McDougall's  skilful  legal  manoeuvring.  There  could  be  no 
earthly  doubt  of  the  result.  He  idly  watched  the  big  bland- 
faced  clock,  with  its  long  second  hand  moving  forward  by  spaced 
jerks.  The  jury  was  out  a  very  long  time  for  so  simple  a  verdict, 
but  that  was  a  habit  of  California  juries.  It  did  not  worry 
Keith.  He  was  glad  to  rest.  The  jucjge  stared  at  the  ceiling, 
his  hands  clasped  over  his  stomach.  Cora's  lawyers  talked  to 
gether  in  a  low  voice.  Flies  buzzed  against  dusty  window-panes. 
The  spectators  watched  apathetically.  Belle,  in  a  ravishing 
toilet,  was  there. 

The  opening  of  the  door  broke  the  spell  almost  rudely.  Keith 
sat  up,  listening  to  the  formal  questions  and  answers.  They  had 
disagreed! 

For  a  moment  the  import  of  this  did  not  penetrate  to  Keith's 
understanding.  Then  he  half  rose,  shouted  "What!"  and  sank 
back  stunned.  His  brain  was  in  confusion.  Only  dimly  did  he 
hear  the  judge  dismissing  the  jury,  remanding  Cora  for  retrial, 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  229 

adjourning  court.  Instantly  Cora  was  surrounded  by  a  con 
gratulatory  crowd.  Keith  sat  alone.  McDougall,  gathering  up 
his  papers  from  the  table  assigned  to  counsel,  made  some 
facetious  remark.  Keith  did  not  reply.  McDougall  looked  at 
him  sharply,  and  as  he  went  out  he  remarked  to  Casey: 

"Keith  takes  this  hard." 

"He  does!"  cried  Casey,  genuinely  astonished.  "They  were 
trying  to  tell  me  he  was  altogether  too  active  in  this  matter;  but  I 
told  them  he  was  young  and  had  his  way  to  make,  and  was  play 
ing  to  the  gallery." 

He  sauntered  across  the  room. 

"Well,  Milt,"  he  cried  in  a  jovial  voice,  but  watching  the 
young  lawyer  narrowly,  "the  Lord's  on  the  side  of  true  virtue, 
as  usual." 

Keith  came  to  himself,  scowled,  started  to  say  something,  but 
refrained  with  an  obvious  effort. 

Casey  wandered  back  to  McDougall. 

"  You're  right,  Mac,"  he  said.  "  I  guess  he's  got  the  swell  head. 
We'll  have  to  call  him  off  gently,  or  he'll  make  a  nuisance  of  him 
self  at  the  next  trial.  He  makes  altogether  too  much  trouble." 

But  McDougall  was  tolerant. 

"Oh,  let  him  alone,  Jim.  He's  got  his  way  to  make.  Let  him 
alone.  We  can  handle  the  situation." 


XLI 

KEITH  left  the  courtroom  in  a  daze  of  incredulity.  This 
was  his  first  serious  defeat;  and  he  could  not  understand 
it.  The  case  was  absolutely  open  and  shut,  a  mere 
question  of  fact  to  which  there  were  sufficient  and  competent 
witnesses.  For  the  moment  he  was  completely  routed. 

As  he  emerged  to  the  busy  crowds  on  Kearney  Street  a  sudden 
repugnance  to  meeting  acquaintances  overcame  him.  He  turned 
off  toward  the  bay,  making  his  way  by  the  back  streets,  alleys, 
and  slums  of  that  unsavoury  quarter.  But  even  here  he  was  not 
to  escape.  He  had  not  gone  two  blocks  before  he  descried 
Kraff  t's  slight  and  elegant  figure  sauntering  toward  him.  Keith 
braced  himself  for  the  inevitable  question. 

"Well,"  it  came,  "how  goes  the  trial?" 

The  words  released  Keith's  pent  flood  of  bitterness.  Here 
was  an  outlet;  Krafft  was  "safe."  He  poured  out  his  dis 
appointment,  his  suspicion,  his  indignation.  The  little  man 
listened  to  him  in  silence,  a  slight  smile  sketching  his  full,  red  lips. 
When  Keith  had  somewhat  run  down,  Krafft,  without  a  word, 
took  him  by  the  arm  and  led  him  by  devious  ways  down  to  the 
water-front  portion  of  the  city.  There  he  planted  him  near 
the  entrance  of  a  dark  alley. 

"Now  you  wait  here,"  Keith  was  told. 

Keith  obeyed.  The  interval  was  long,  but  he  had  much  to 
occupy  his  mind.  After  a  time  Krafft  returned  in  company 
with  a  slouching,  drink-sodden  bummer  of  powerful  build  and 
lowering  mien,  the  remains  of  a  forceful  personality.  This  in 
dividual  shambled  along  in  the  wake  of  the  dapper  little  Krafft 
quite  meekly  and  submissively. 

"Here  you  are,"  said  the  latter  briskly,  and  with  a  sort  of  non- 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  231 

chalant  authority.  "  Come,  now,  Mex,  tell  Mr.  Keith  what  you 
know  about  the  Cora  trial.  Go  on!"  he  urged,  as  the  man 
hesitated.  "He's  not  going  to  'use'  you — he  doesn't  even  know 
who  you  are  or  where  you're  to  be  found,  and  I'm  not  going  to  tell 
him.  Speak  up,  Mex !  I  tell  you  I  want  him  to  know  how  things 
stand." 

Keith  by  now  was  acquainted  with  many  of  Krafft's  proteges, 
but  he  had  never  met  the  delectable  Mex.  Evidently  the  latter 
had  long  known  Kraflt,  however,  for  he  acknowledged  his  au 
thority  unquestioningly. 

"  It's  like  this,  boss,"  he  began  in  a  hoarse  voice.  "  You  don't 
know  me,  like  Mr.  Kraflt  says,  but  there's  plenty  that  do.  I  got 
a  lot  of  iafloonce  down  here,  and  when  anybody  wants  anything 
they  know  where  to  come  to  get  it,  which  is  right  to  headquarters 
— here,"  he  slapped  his  great  chest. 

"  Get  on,"  interrupted  Krafft  impatiently.  "We'll  take  it  for 
granted  that  you  are  a  great  man." 

Mex  looked  at  him  reproachfully,  but  went  on: 

"About  this  Cora  trial:  they  come  to  me  for  good,  reliable 
witnesses,  and  I  got  'em,  and  drilled  'em.  There  ain't  nobody  in 
it  with  me  for  making  any  witness  watertight." 

"How  many  witnesses?"  prompted  Kraflt. 

"Eight,"  replied  Mex  promptly. 

"How  much?" 

"Well,  they  give  me  five  thousand  fer  to  git  the  job  done," 
admitted  Mex,  with  some  reluctance. 

"Hope  they  got  some  of  it,"  commented  Kraflt. 

"Who  gave  you  the  money?"  demanded  Keith. 

But  Krafft  interposed. 

"Hold  on,  my  son,  that  isn't  ethics  at  all!  You  musn't  ask 
questions  like  that,  must  he,  Mex?  Very  bad  form!"  He 
turned  to  Keith  with  a  crisp  air  of  decision.  "That's  what  was 
the  matter  with  your  trial;  I  just  thought  I'd  show  you.  Go  on, 
Mex, get  out,"  he  commanded  that  individual,  good-humouredly. 
"I'm  not  particularly  proud  of  you,  but  I  suppose  I've  got  to 
stand  you.  Only  remember  this:  Mr.  Keith  is  my  friend. 


232  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

Swear  him  out  of  the  high  seats  of  heaven — if  you  can — because 
that's  the  nature  of  you ;  but  let  him  walk  safely.  In  other  words, 
no  strong-arm  work;  do  you  understand?" 

The  man  mumbled  and  growled  something. 

"Nonsense,  Mex,"  interrupted  Krafft  sharply.  "Do  as  I 
say!" 

"  It's  a  matter  of  a  tidy  sum,"  blurted  out  Mex  at  last. 

Kraff  t  laughed. 

"  You  see,  you  were  already  marked  for  the  slaughter,"  he  told 
Keith;  then  to  Mex: 

"Well,  you  let  him  alone;  he's  my  friend." 

"All  right,  if  you  say  so,"  growled  the  man. 

"You're  safe — as  far  as  Mex  and  all  his  people  are  concerned," 
said  Krafft  to  Keith.  "Our  word  is  always  good,  when  given  to 
a  friend;  isn't  it,  Mex?" 

The  man  nodded  awkwardly  and  slouched  away. 

Keith's  depression  had  given  place  to  anger.  He  had  been 
beaten  by  unfair  means;  his  opponent  had  cheated  at  the  game, 
and  his  opponent  enjoyed  the  respect  of  the  community  as  a 
high-minded,  able,  dignified  member  of  the  bar.  It  was  un 
thinkable!  A  man  caught  cheating  at  cards  would  most  cer 
tainly  be  expelled  from  any  decent  club. 

"I'll  disbar  that  man  if  it's  the  last  act  of  my  life!"  he  cried. 
"He's  not  fit  to  practise  among  decent  men! " 

He  left  Krafft  standing  on  the  corner  and  smiling  quietly,  and 
hurried  back  to  his  office. 


XLII 

IT  WAS  unfortunate  for  everybody  that  Morrell  should 
have  chosen  that  particular  afternoon  to  pay  one  of  his 
periodical  calls.  Morrell  had  been  tactful  and  judicious 
in  his  demands.  Keith  was  not  particularly  afraid  of  his  story 
or  the  effect  of  it  if  told,  but  he  disliked  intensely  the  fuss  and 
bother  of  explanations  and  readjustments.  It  had  seemed  easier 
to  let  things  drift  along.  The  transactions  were  skilfully  veiled, 
notes  were  always  given,  Morrell  was  shrewd  enough  to  take 
care  that  it  did  not  cost  too  much.  There  existed  not  the 
slightest  cordiality  between  the  men,  but  a  tacit  assumption  of 
civil  relations. 

But  this  afternoon  the  sight  of  Morrell,  seated  with 
what  seemed  to  Keith  a  smug,  superior,  supercilious  confi 
dence  in  the  best  of  the  office  chairs,  was  more  than  Keith 
could  stand.  He  was  bursting  with  anger  at  the  world  in 
general. 

"You  here?"  he  barked  at  Morrell,  without  waiting  for  a 
greeting.  "  Well,  I'm  sick  of  you !  Get  out ! " 

Morrell  stared  at  him  dumbfounded. 

"I  don't  believe  I  understand,"  he  objected. 

"Get  out!  Get  out!  Get  out!  Is  that  plain  enough?" 
shouted  Keith. 

Morrell  arose  with  cold  dignity. 

"I  cannot  permit "  he  began. 

Keith  turned  on  him  abruptly. 

"Look  here,  don't  try  to  come  that  rot.  I  said,  get  out — and 
I  mean  it!" 

So  menacing  was  his  aspect  that  Morrell  drew  back  toward 
the  door. 

233 


234  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

"I  suppose  you  know  what  this  means?"  he  threatened,  an 
ugly  note  in  his  quiet  voice. 

"I  don't  give  a  damn  what  it  means,"  rejoined  Keith  with 
deadly  earnestness,  "and  if  you  don't  get  out  of  here  I'll  throw 
you  out!" 

Morrell  went  hastily. 

Keith  slammed  his  papers  into  a  drawer,  locked  it  and  his 
office  door,  and  went  directly  to  the  office  of  the  Bulletin.  There, 
seated  in  all  the  chairs,  perched  on  the  tables  and  window 
ledges,  he  found  a  representative  group.  He  recognized  most 
of  them,  including  James  King  of  William,  Coleman,  Hossfros, 
Isaac  Bluxome,  Talbot  Ward,  and  others.  A  dead  silence 
greeted  his  appearance.  He  stopped  by  the  door. 

"You  have,  of  course,  heard  the  news,"  he  said.  "I  have 
come  here  to  state  unequivocally,  and  for  publication,  that 
the  Cora  trial  will  be  pushed  as  rapidly  and  as  strongly  as  is  in 
the  power  of  the  District  Attorney's  office.  And  if  legal  evi 
dence  of  corruption  can  be  obtained,  proceedings  will  at  once  be 
inaugurated  to  indict  the  bribe  givers." 

A  short  silence  followed  this  speech.  Several  men  looked 
toward  one  another.  The  tension  appeared  to  relax  a  trifle. 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  this,  sir,  from  your  own  lips,"  at  last  said 
Coleman  formally,  "and  I  wish  you  every  success." 

Another  short  and  rather  embarrassed  silence  fell. 

"I  should  like  to  state  privately  to  you  gentlemen,  and  not 
for  publication" — Keith  paused  and  glanced  toward  King, 
who  nodded  reassuringly — "that  I  have  evidence,  but  unfor 
tunately  not  legal,  that  James  McDougall  has  been  guilty, 
either  personally  or  through  agents,  of  bribery  and  corruption; 
and  it  is  my  intention  to  undertake  his  disbarment  if  I  can 
possibly  get  proper  evidence." 

"Whether  he  bribed  or  didn't  bribe,  he  knew  perfectly  well 
that  Cora  was  guilty,"  stated  King  positively.  "And  he  had  no 
right  to  take  the  case." 

But  at  that  period  this  was  an  extreme  view,  as  it  still  is  in 
the  legal  mind. 


LOOK  HERE,  DON'T  TRY  TO  COME  THAT  ROT.       I   SAID,  GET  OUT- 
AND  I  MEAN  IT!" 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  235 

"I  suppose  every  man  has  a  moral  right  to  a  defence,"  said 
Coleman  doubtfully.  "If  every  lawyer  should  refuse  to  take 
Cora's  case,  as  you  say  McDougall  should  have  refused,  why 
the  man  would  have  gone  undefended!" 

"That's  all  right,"  returned  King,  undaunted.  "He  ought 
to  have  a  lawyer — appointed  by  the  court — to  see  merely  that 
he  gets  a  fair  trial;  not  a  lawyer — hired,  prostituted,  at  a  great 
price — to  try  by  every  technical  means  to  get  him  off." 

"A  lawyer  must,  by  the  ethics  of  his  profession,  take  every 
case  brought  him,  I  suppose,"  some  one  enunciated  the  ancient 
doctrine. 

"  Well,  if  that  is  the  case,"  rejoined  King  hotly,  "  the  law  warps 
the  thinking  and  the  morals  of  any  man  who  professes  it.  And 
if  I  had  a  son  to  place  in  life,  I  most  certainly  should  not  put 
him  in  a  calling  that  deliberately  trains  his  mind  to  see  things 
that  way!" 

"I  am  sorry  you  have  so  low  an  opinion,"  spoke  up  Keith 
from  the  doorway.  "I  am  afraid  I  must  hold  the  contrary  as 
to  the  nobility  of  my  chosen  profession.  It  can  be  disgraced, 
I  admit.  That  it  has  been  disgraced,  I  agree.  That  it  can  be 
redeemed,  I  am  going  to  prove." 

He  bowed  and  left  the  office. 


XLIII 

MORRELL  went  directly  from  Keith's  office  to  Keith's 
house.  He  was  not  particularly  angry;  for  some  time 
he  had  expected  just  this  result,  but  since  he  had  threat 
ened,  he  intended  to  accomplish.  Finding  Nan  Keith  at  home, 
he  plunged  directly  at  the  subject  in  his  most  direct  and  English 
fashion.  She  listened  to  him  steadily  until  he  had  finished. 

"Is  that  all?"  she  then  asked  him  quietly. 

"That's  all,"  he  acknowledged. 

She  arose. 

"Then  I  will  say,  Mr.  Morrell,  that  I  do  not  believe  you. 
I  know  my  husband  thoroughly,  and  I  am  beginning  to  know 
you.  I  believe  that  is  my  only  comment.  Good  afternoon." 

He  made  a  half  attempt  to  point  to  her  the  way  to  corrob 
orative  evidence,  but  she  swept  this  superbly  aside.  Finally 
he  took  his  correct  leave,  half  angry,  half  amused,  wholly  cyni 
cal,  for  to  his  mind  the  reason  for  her  indifference  to  the  news  he 
brought  lay  in  what  he  supposed  to  be  her  relations  with  Ben 
Sansome. 

"  Bally  ass ! "  he  apostrophized  himself.  "  Might  have  known 
how  she'd  take  it." 

His  reading  of  Nan's  motives  was,  of  course,  incorrect.  Her 
first  feeling  was  merely  a  white  heat  of  anger  against  Morrell, 
whom  she  had  never  liked.  Perhaps  after  a  little  this  emotion 
might  have  carried  over  into,  not  distrust,  but  an  uneasiness 
as  to  the  main  issue;  but  before  she  had  arrived  at  this  point 
Keith  came  in  to  deliver  an  ill-timed  warning.  As  ill  luck  would 
have  it,  and  as  such  coincidences  often  come  about  in  the  most 
perverse  fashion,  Keith  had,  down  the  street,  met  some  malicious 
fool  who  had  dropped  a  laughing  remark  about  Sansome.  It 

236 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  237 

was  nothing  in  itself.  Ordinarily,  Keith  would  have  paid  no 
attention  to  it.  To-day  it  clashed  with  his  mood.  Even  now 
his  jealousy  was  not  stirred  in  the  least,  but  his  sense  of  appear 
ances  was  irritated.  By  the  time  he  had  reached  home  he  had 
worked  up  a  proper  indignation. 

"Look  here,  Nan,"  he  blurted  out  as  soon  as  he  had  closed 
the  door  behind  him,  "you're  seeing  too  much  of  Sansome. 
Everybody's  talking." 

"Who  is  everybody?"  she  asked  very  quietly. 

"Of  course  I  know  it's  all  right,"  he  blundered  ahead  tact 
lessly — the  gleam  in  her  eye  should  have  warned  him  that  he 
might  have  omitted  that  reassurance — "but  just  the  looks  of 
the  thing.  And  he's  such  a  weak  and  wishy-washy  little  non 
entity!" 

Her  sense  of  justice  aroused  by  this,  she  sprang  to  the  de 
fence  of  Sansome. 

"You  are  quite  mistaken  there,"  she  said  with  dignity. 
"Men  of  that  type  are  never  understood  by  men  of  yours. 
He  is  my  friend — and  yours.  And  he  has  been  very  kind  to 
both  of  us." 

"Well,  just  the  same,  you  ought  not  to  get  yourself  talked 
about,"  repeated  Keith  stubbornly. 

"  Do  you  distrust  me?  "  she  demanded. 

"Heavens,  no!  But  you  don't  realize  how  it  looks  to  others. 
He's  coming  here  morning,  noon,  and  night." 

"It  seems  to  me  I  may  be  the  best  judge  of  my  own  con 
duct." 

"Well,"  said  Keith  deliberately,  "I  don't  know  that  you  are. 
You  must  remember  that  you  are  my  wife,  and  that  you  bear 
my  name.  I  have  something  to  say  about  it.  I'm  telling 
you;  but  if  you  cannot  manage  the  matter  properly,  I'll  just 
have  to  diop  a  hint  to  Sansome." 

At  that  she  blazed  out. 

"Do  that  and  you  will  regret  it  to  the  last  day  of  your  life!" 
she  flared.     "If  you'd  be  as  careful  with  the  name  of  Keith  as 
I  am,  it  would  not  suffer!" 


238  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?"  he  asked,  after  a  blank 
pause. 

She  had  not  intended  to  use  that  weapon,  but  now  she  per 
sisted  pluckily. 

"I  mean  that  if  our  name  has  been  talked  about,  it  has  not 
been  because  of  any  action  of  mine." 

His  heart  was  beating  wildly.  In  the  multiplicity  of  righting 
interests  he  had  actually  forgotten  (for  the  moment)  all  about 
his  office  visitor.  But  he,  too,  had  pluck. 

"I  see  you  have  had  a  call  from  our  friend  Morrell,"  he  ven 
tured. 

"Well!  "she  challenged. 

Her  head  was  back,  and  her  breath  was  short.  This  crisis 
had  come  upon  them  swiftly,  unexpectedly,  unwanted  by  either. 
Now  it  loomed  over  them  in  a  terrible,  because  unknown,  por 
tent.  Each  realized  that  a  misstep  might  mean  irreparable 
consequences,  but  each  felt  constrained  to  go  on.  The  situation 
must  now  be  developed.  Keith,  faced  with  this  new  problem, 
lost  his  heat,  and  became  cool,  careful,  wary,  as  when  in  court 
his  faculties  marshalled  themselves.  Nan,  on  the  other  hand, 
while  well  in  control  of  her  mind,  poised  on  a  brink. 

"I  don't  know  what  he  told  you,"  said  Keith,  the  blood  suf 
fusing  his  face  and  spreading  over  his  ears  and  neck,  "but  I'm 
going  to  tell  you  everything  he  would  be  justified  in  telling 
you.  One  evening  a  number  of  years  ago,  in  company  with  a 
crowd,  I  went  inside  the  doors  of  a  disreputable  place,  and  im 
mediately  came  out  again.  It  was  part  of  a  spree,  and  harmless. 
That  was  all  there  was  to  it.  You  believe  me?"  In  spite  of 
his  iron  control,  a  deep  note  of  anxiety  vibrated  in  his  voice  as 
he  proffered  the  question. 

Her  heart  gave  a  leap  for  pride  as  he  made  this  confession, 
his  face  very  red,  but  his  head  back.  She  knew  he  spoke  the 
truth,  the  whole  truth. 

"Of  course  I  believe  you,"  she  said,  trying  to  speak  naturally, 
but  with  a  mad  impulse  to  laugh  or  cry.  She  swallowed,  gripped 
her  nerves,  and  went  on.  "But,  naturally,"  she  told  him, 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  239 

"I  consider  myself  as  good  a  custodian  of  the  family  reputation 
as  yourself." 

There  the  matter  rested.  By  mutual  but  tacit  consent  they 
withdrew  cautiously  from  the  debated  ground,  each  curiously 
haunted  by  a  feeling  that  catastrophe  had  been  fortunately  and 
narrowly  averted. 


XLIV 

KEITH  immediately  moved  for  a  retrial,  and  began  anew 
his  heartbreaking  labours  in  forcing  a  way  to  definite 
action  through  the  thorn  thicket  of  technicalities.    At 
the  same  time,  on  his  own  account,  and  very  secretly,  he  com 
menced  a  search  for  evidence  against  the  attorneys  for  the  de 
fence.     By  now  he  possessed  certain  private  agents  of  his  own 
whom  he  considered  trustworthy. 

Early  in  his  investigations  he  abandoned  hope  of  getting  direct 
evidence  against  McDougall  himself.  That  astute  lawyer  had 
been  careful  to  have  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  actual  bribery 
or  corruption,  and  he  was  crafty  enough  to  disassociate  himself 
from  direct  dealing  with  agents.  Indeed,  Keith  himself  was  in 
some  slight  doubt  as  to  whether  McDougall  had  any  actual  de 
tailed  knowledge  of  the  underground  workings  at  all.  But  Mc- 
DougalFs  associates  were  a  different  matter.  Here,  little  by 
little,  real  evidence  began  to  accumulate,  until  Keith  felt  that  he 
could,  with  reasonable  excuse,  move  for  an  official  investigation. 
To  his  genuine  grief  Calhoun  Bennett  seemed  to  be  heavily  in 
volved.  He  could  not  forget  that  the  young  Southerner  had 
been  one  of  his  earliest  friends  in  the  city,  nor  had  he  ever  tried 
to  forget  the  real  liking  he  had  felt  for  him.  It  was  not  difficult 
to  recognize  that  according  to  his  code  Cal  Bennett  had  merely 
played  the  game  as  the  game  was  played,  carrying  out  zealously 
the  intentions  of  his  superiors,  availing  himself  of  time-honoured 
methods,  wholeheartedly  fighting  for  his  own  side.  Yet  there 
could  be  no  doubt  that  he  had  made  himself  criminally  liable. 
Keith  brooded  much  over  the  situation,  but  got  nowhere,  and 
so  resolutely  pushed  it  into  the  back  of  his  mind  in  favour  of 
the  need  of  the  moment. 

240 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  241 

But  quietly  as  he  conducted  his  investigations,  some  rumour 
of  them  escaped.  One  afternoon  he  received  a  call  from  Ben 
nett.  The  young  man  was  evidently  a  little  embarrassed,  but 
intent  on  getting  at  the  matter. 

"Look  heah,  Keith,"  he  began,  dropping  into  a  chair,  and 
leaning  both  arms  on  the  table  opposite  Keith,  "I  don't  want 
to  say  anything  offensive,  or  make  any  disagreeable  implica 
tions,  or  insult  you  by  false  suspicions,  but  there  are  various 
persistent  rumours  about,  and  I  thought  I'd  better  come  to  you 
direct." 

"Fire  away,  Cal,"  said  Keith. 

"Well,  it's  just  this:  they  do  say  yo're  tryin'  to  fasten  a  crim 
inal  charge  of  bribery  on  me.  You  and  I  have  been  friends — 
and  still  are,  I  hope — but  if  yo're  goin'  gunnin'  fob  me,  I 
want  to  know  it." 

His  face  was  slightly  flushed,  but  his  fine  dark  eyes  looked 
hopefully  to  his  friend  for  denial.  Keith  was  genuinely  dis 
tressed.  He  moved  an  inkwell  to  and  fro,  and  did  not  look  up; 
but  his  voice  was  steady  and  determined  as  he  replied: 

"I'm  not  gunning  for  you,  Cal,  and  I  wish  to  heaven  you 
weren't  mixed  up  in  this  mess."  He  looked  up.  "But  I  am 
gunning  for  crooked  work  in  this  Cora  case!" 

Bennett  took  his  arms  from  the  table,  and  sat  erect. 

"Do  you  mean  to  imply,  suh,  that  I  am  guilty  of  crooked 
work?"  he  inquired,  a  new  edge  of  formality  in  his  voice. 

"No,  no,  of  course  not! "  hastened  Keith.  " I  hadn't  thought 
of  you  in  that  connection !  I  am  just  looking  the  whole  matter 
up " 

"Well,  suh,  I  strongly  advise  you  to  drop  it,"  interrupted 
Bennett  curtly. 

"But  why?" 

"It  isn't  ethical.  You  will  find  great  resentment  among 
yo'  colleagues  of  the  bar  at  the  implication  conveyed  by  yo; 
so-called  investigation,  suh." 

Calhoun  Bennett  had  become  stiff  and  formal.  Keith  still 
tried  desperately  to  be  reasonable  and  conciliatory. 


242  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

"But  if  there  proves  to  be  nothing  out  of  the  way,"  he  urged, 
"surely  no  one  could  have  anything  to  fear  or  object  to." 

"Nobody  has  anything  to  fear  in  any  case,"  said  Bennett, 
"but  any  gentleman— and  I,  most  decidedly— would  object  to 
the  implication." 

At  this  Keith  stiffened  a  little  in  his  turn. 

"I  am  sorry  we  differ  on  that  point.  I  have  good  reason  to 
believe  there  has  been  crooked  work  somewhere  in  this  Cora 
trial.  I  do  not  know  who  has  done  it;  I  accuse  nobody;  but 
in  the  public  office  I  hold  it  seems  my  plain  duty  to  investigate." 

"  Yo'  public  duty  is  to  prosecute,  that  is  all,"  argued  Bennett. 
"It  is  the  duty  of  the  grand  jury  to  investigate  or  to  order  in 
vestigations." 

Here  spoke  the  spirit  of  the  law,  for  technically  Bennett  was 
correct. 

"Whatever  the  rigid  interpretation" — Keith  found  himself 
uttering  heresy — "  I  still  feel  it  my  duty  to  deal  personally  with 
whatever  seems  to  me  unjustly  to  interfere  with  proper  con 
victions."  Then  he  stopped,  aghast  at  the  tremendous  step  he 
had  taken.  For  to  a  man  trained  as  was  Keith,  in  a  time  when 
all  men  were  created  for  the  law,  and  not  the  law  for  men,  in  a 
society  where  the  lawyer  was  considered  the  greatest  citizen,  and 
subtle  technicality  paramount  to  justice  or  commonsense,  this 
was  a  tremendous  step.  At  that  moment,  and  by  that  spon 
taneous  and  unconsidered  statement,  Keith,  unknown  to  himself, 
passed  from  one  side  to  the  other  in  the  great  social  struggle  that 
was  impending. 

"I  wa'n  you,  suh,"  Bennett  was  repeating,  "yo'  course  will 
not  meet  with  the  approval  of  the  members  of  the  bar." 

"I  am  sorry,  Cal,"  said  Keith  sadly. 

Bennett  rose,  bowed  stiffly,  and  turned  to  the  door.  But 
suddenly  he  whirled  back,  his  face  alight  with  feeling. 

"Oh,  see  heah,  Milt,  be  sensible!"  he  cried.  "I  know  just 
how  yo're  feelin'  now.  Yo're  sore,  and  I  don't  blame  you.  You 
put  up  a  hard  fight,  and  though  you  got  licked,  I  don't  mind  tellin' 
you  that  the  whole  bar  appreciates  yo're  brilliant  work.  You 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  243 

must  remember  you  had  to  play  a  lone  hand  against  pretty  big 
men — the  biggest  we've  got !  We  all  appreciate  the  odds.  Cora 
has  lots  of  friends.  You'll  never  convict  him,  Milt;  but  go  in 
again  for  another  trial,  if  it  will  do  yo're  feelin's  any  good,  with 
our  best  wishes.  Only  don't  let  gettin'  licked  make  you  so  sore! 
Don't  go  buttin'  yo're  haid  at  yo're  friends!  Be  a  spo't!" 

A  half  hour  ago  this  appeal  might  have  gained  a  response  if  not 
a  practical  effect,  but  the  spiritual  transformation  in  Keith  was 
complete. 

"I'm  sorry,"  he  replied  simply,  "but  I  must  go  ahead  in  my 
own  way." 

Calhoun  Bennett's  face  lost  its  glow,  and  his  tall  figure 
stiffened. 

"  I  must  wa'n  you  not  to  bring  my  name  into  this,"  said  he.  "  I 
do  not  intend  to  have  my  reputation  sacrificed  to  yo'  strait- 
laced  Yankee  conscience.  If  my  name  is  ever  mentioned,  I  shall 
hold  you  responsible,  personally  responsible.  You  understand, 
suh?" 

He  stood  stiff  and  straight,  staring  at  Keith.  Keith  did  not 
stir.  After  a  moment  Calhoun  Bennett  went  out. 


XLV 

ATER  this  interview  Keith  experienced  a  marked  and 
formal  coldness  from  nearly  all  of  his  old  associates. 
Those  with  whom  he  came  into  direct  personal  contact 
showed  him  scrupulous  politeness,  but  confined  their  conversa 
tion  to  the  briefest  necessary  words,  and  quit  him  as  soon  as 
possible.  He  found  himself  very  much  alone,  for  at  this  period 
he  had  lost  the  confidence  of  one  faction  and  had  not  yet  gained 
that  of  the  other. 

His  investigations  encountered  always  increasing  difficulties. 
In  his  own  department  he  could  obtain  little  assistance. 
A  dead  inertia  opposed  all  his  efforts.  Nevertheless,  he  went 
ahead  doggedly,  using  Krafft  and  some  of  Krafft's  protege's  to 
considerable  effect. 

But  soon  pressure  was  brought  on  him  from  a  new  direction: 
his  opponents  struck  at  him  through  his  home. 

For  some  days  Nan  had  been  aware  of  a  changed  atmosphere 
in  the  society  she  frequented  and  had  heretofore  led.  The 
change  was  subtle,  defied  analysis,  but  was  to  the  woman's 
sensitive  instincts  indubitable.  At  first  she  had  been  inclined  to 
consider  it  subjective,  to  imagine  that  something  wrong  with  her 
self  must  be  projecting  itself  through  her  imagination;  but  finally 
she  realized  that  the  impression  was  well  based.  In  people's 
attitude  there  was  nothing  overt;  it  was  rather  a  withdrawl  of 
intimacy,  a  puzzling  touch  of  formality.  She  seemed  overnight 
to  have  lost  in  popularity. 

Truth  to  tell,  she  paid  little  attention  to  this.  By  now  she 
was  experienced  enough  in  human  nature  to  understand  and  to 
be  able  to  gauge  the  slight  fluctuations,  the  ebbs  and  flows  of 
esteem,  the  kaleidoscopic  shiftings  and  realignments  of  the 

?44 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  245 

elements  of  frivolous  and  formal  society.  Mrs.  Brown  had  hired 
away  Mrs.  Smith's  best  servant;  for  an  hour  they  looked  askance 
on  Mrs.  Brown;  then,  the  episode  forgotten,  Mrs.  Brown's  cork 
bobbed  to  the  surface  company  of  all  the  other  corks.  It  was 
very  trivial.  Besides,  just  at  this  moment,  Nan  was  wholly  occu 
pied  with  preparations  for  her  first  "  afternoon  "  of  the  year.  She 
intended  as  usual  to  give  three  of  these  formal  affairs,  and  from 
them  the  season  took  its  tone.  The  list  was  necessarily  far  from 
exclusive,  but  Nan  made  up  for  that  by  the  care  she  gave  her 
most  original  arrangements.  She  prided  herself  on  doing  things 
simply,  but  with  a  difference,  calling  heavily  on  her  resources  of 
correspondence,  her  memory,  and  her  very  good  imagination  for 
some  novelty  of  food  or  entertainment.  At  the  first  of  these 
receptions,  too,  she  wore  always  for  the  first  time  some  new  and 
marvellous  toilet  straight  from  Paris,  the  style  of  which  had  not 
been  shown  to  even  her  most  intimate  friends.  This  year,  for 
example,  she  had  done  the  most  obvious  and,  therefore,  the  most 
unlikely  thing:  she  had  turned  to  the  contemporaneous  Spanish 
for  her  theme.  Nobody  had  thought  of  that.  The  Colonial, 
the  Moorish,  the  German,  the  Russian,  the  Hungarian — all  the 
rest  of  the  individual  or  "picturesque  " — but  nobody  had  thought 
to  look  next  door.  Nan  had  decorated  the  rooms  with  yellow 
and  red,  hung  the  walls  with  riatas,  strings  of  red  peppers  and  the 
like,  obtained  Spanish  guitar  players,  and  added  enough  fiery 
Mexican  dishes  to  the  more  digestible  refreshments  to  emphasize 
the  Spanish  flavour.  She  wore  a  dress  of  golden  satin,  a  wreath 
of  coral  flowers  about  her  hair,  and  morocco  slippers  matched  in 
hue. 

The  afternoon  was  fine.  People  were  slow  in  coming.  A  few 
of  the  nondescripts  that  must  be  invited  on  such  occasions  put  in 
an  appearance,  responded  hastily  to  their  hostess's  greeting,  and 
wandered  about  furtively  but  interminably.  Patricia  Sherwood, 
who  had  come  early,  circulated  nobly,  trying  to  break  up  the 
frozen  little  groups,  but  in  vain.  The  time  passed.  More  non 
descripts — and  not  a  soul  else !  As  five  o'clock  neared,  a  cold  fear 
clutched  at  Nan's  heart,  No  one  was  coming! 


246  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

She  worked  hard  to  cover  with  light  graciousness  the  cold- 
hearted  dismay  that  filled  her  breast  as  the  party  dragged  its 
weary  length  away.  All  her  elaborate  preparations  and  decora 
tions  seemed  to  mock  her.  The  Spanish  orchestra  tinkled  away 
gayly  until  she  felt  she  could  throw  something  at  them;  the 
caterer's  servants  served  solemnly  the  awed  nondescripts. 
Nan's  cheeks  burned  and  her  throat  choked  with  unshed  tears. 
She  could  not  bear  to  look  at  Patsy  Sherwood,  who  remained 
tactfully  distant. 

About  five- thirty  the  door  opened  to  admit  a  little  group,  at  the 
sight  of  whom  Nan  uttered  a  short,  hysterical  chuckle.  Then  she 
glided  to  meet  them,  both  hands  outstretched  in  welcome.  Mrs. 
Sherwood  watched  her  with  admiration.  Nan  was  game. 

There  were  three  in  the  party:  Mrs.  Morrell,  Sally  Warner, 
and  Mrs.  Scattergood.  Sally  Warner  was  of  the  gushing  type 
of  tall,  rather  desiccated  femininity  who  always  knows  you  so 
much  better  than  you  know  her,  who  cultivates  you  every 
momeat  for  a  week  and  forgets  you  for  months  on  end,  who  is 
hard  up  and  worldly  and  therefore  calculating,  whose  job  is  to 
amuse  people  and  who  will  therefore  sacrifice  her  best,  per 
haps  not  most  useful,  friend  to  an  epigram,  whose  wit  is  barbed, 
who  has  a  fine  nose  for  trouble,  and  who  is  always  in  at  the  death. 
Mrs.  Scattergood  was  a  small  blond  woman,  high  voiced,  pre 
cise  in  manner,  very  positive  in  her  statements  which  she  de 
livered  in  a  drawling  tone,  humourless,  inquisitive  about  petty 
affairs,  the  sort  of  "good  woman"  with  whom  no  fault  can  be 
found,  but  who  drives  men  to  crime.  Mrs.  Morrell  we  know. 

These  three,  after  greeting  their  hostess  gushingly,  circulated 
compactly,  talking  to  each  other  in  low  voices.  Nan  knew  they 
were  watching  her,  and  that  they  had  come  for  the  sole  purpose 
of  getting  first-hand  details  of  her  fiasco  for  later  recounting  in 
drawing-rooms  where,  undoubtedly,  even  now  awaited  eager 
auditors.  She  came  to  a  decision.  The  matter  could  not  be 
worse.  When  the  three  came  to  make  their  farewells,  she  de 
tained  them. 

"  No,  I'm  not  going  to  let  you  go  yet,"  she  told  them,  perhaps  a 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  247 

little  imperiously.  "I  haven't  had  half  a  visit  with  you.  Wait 
until  this  rabble  clears  out." 

She  hesitated  a  moment  over  Mrs.  Sherwood,  but  finally  let 
her  go  without  protest.  When  the  last  guest  had  departed  she 
sank  into  a  chair.  As  she  was  already  on  the  verge  of  hysterics, 
she  easily  kept  up  an  air  of  gayety. 

"Girls,  what  an  awful  party!"  she  cried.  "I  could  tear  my 
hair!  It  was  a  perfect  nightmare."  Struggling  to  control  her 
voice  and  keep  back  her  tears,  she  added  abruptly:  "Now  tel" 
me  what  it  is  all  about." 

Mrs.  Morrell  and  Sally  Warner  were  plainly  uneasy  and  at  a 
loss  how  to  meet  this  situation,  but  Mrs.  Scattergood  remained 
quite  composed  in  her  small,  compact  way. 

"What's  what  all  about,  Nan,  dear?"  asked  Sally  Warner  in 
her  most  vivacious  manner.  She  keenly  felt  the  dramatic 
situation  and  was  already  visualizing  herself  in  the  role  of 
raconteuse. 

"You  know  perfectly  well.  Why  this  funeral?  Where  arc 
they  all?  Why  did  they  stay  away?  I  have  a  right  to  know." 

"I'm  sure  there's  nothing  I  can  think  of!"  replied  Sally 
artificially.  "The  idea!" 

But  Mrs.  Scattergood,  with  all  the  relish  of  performing  a  noble 
and  disagreeable  duty,  broke  in: 

"You  know,  dear,"  she  said  in  her  didactic,  slow  voice,  "as  well 
as  we  do,  what  the  world  is.  Of  course  we  understand,  but 
people  will  talk!" 

"In  heaven's  name  what  are  you  driving  at?  What  are  they 
talking  about?  "  demanded  Nan,  as  Mrs.  Scattergood  apparently 
came  to  a  full  stop. 

A  pause  ensued  while  Sally  and  Mrs.  Scattergood  exchanged 
glances  with  Mrs.  Morrell. 

"Well,"  at  last  said  Sally,  judicially,  buttoning  her  glove,  her 
head  on  one  side,  "if  I  had  a  nice  husband  like  yours,  I  wouldn't 
let  him  run  around  getting  himself  disliked  for  nothing." 

"You  ought  to  use  your  influence  with  him  before  it  is  too 
late,"  added  Mrs.  Morrell. 


248  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

Nan  looked  helplessly  from  one  to  the  other,  too  uncertain  of 
her  ground  now  to  risk  another  step. 

"  So  that's  it,"  she  ventured  at  last.  "  Some  ene  has  been  tell 
ing  lies  about  us!" 

"Oh,  dear  no!"  disclaimed  Mrs. Scattergood.  "It  is  only 
that  your  friends  cannot  understand  your  taking  sides  against 
them.  Naturally  they  feel  hurt.  Forgive  me,  dear — you  know 
I  say  it  with  all  affection — but  don't  you  think  it  a  mistake?" 

Nan  was  thoroughly  dazed  and  mystified,  but  afraid  to  press 
the  matter  further.  She  had  a  suspicion  Mrs.  Morrell  was  again 
responsible  for  her  difficulties,  but  was  too  uncertain  to  urge 
them  to  stay  for  further  elucidation.  They  arose.  These  were 
the  days  of  hoop  skirts,  and  the  set  of  the  outer  skirt  had  to  be 
carefully  adjusted  before  going  out.  As  they  posed  in  turn  be 
fore  the  hall  pier  glass  they  chattered:  "How  lovely  the  house 
looks."  "You  certainly  have  worked  hard,  and  must  be  tired, 
poor  dear!"  "Well,  we'll  see  you  to-morrow  at  Mrs.  Terry's. 
You're  not  asked?  Surely  there  is  some  mistake!  Well,  those 
things  always  happen  in  a  big  affair,  don't  they?  "  "  See  you 
soon."  "Good-bye."  "Good-bye." 

Outside  the  house  they  paused  at  the  head  of  the  steps. 

"Well,  what  do  you  think  of  that?"  said  Sally.  "I  really 
believe  the  poor  thing  doesn't  know.  I  believe  I'll  just  drop  in 
for  a  minute  at  Mrs.  CaldwelTs.  Sorry  you're  not  going  my 
way." 

After  a  fashion  Nan  felt  relieved  by  this  interview,  for  she 
thought  she  discerned  only  Mrs.  Morrell's  influence,  and  this,  she 
knew,  she  could  easily  overcome.  While  she  waited  for  Keith's 
return  from  whatever  inaccessible  fastnesses  he  always  occupied 
during  these  big  afternoon  receptions,  she  reviewed  the  situation, 
her  indignation  mounting.  Downstairs,  Wing  Sam  and  his 
temporary  assistants  were  clearing  things  away.  Usually  Nan 
superintended  this,  but  to-day  she  did  not  care.  When  Keith 
finally  entered  the  room,  she  burst  out  on  him  with  a  rapid  and 
angry  account  of  the  whole  situation  as  she  saw  it;  but  to  her 
surprise  he  did  not  rise  to  it.  His  weary,  spiritless,  uninterested 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  249 

acceptance  of  it  astonished  her  to  the  last  degree.  To  him  her 
entanglement  with  the  Cora  affair — for  at  once  he  saw  the  trend 
of  it  all — seemed  the  last  straw.  Not  even  his  own  home  was 
sacred.  His  spirit  was  so  bruised  and  wearied  that  he  actually 
could  not  rise  to  an  explanation.  He  seemed  to  realize  an  utter 
hopelessness  of  making  her  see  his  point  of  view.  This  was  not 
so  strange  when  it  is  considered  that  this  point  of  view,  however 
firmly  settled,  was  still  a  new  and  unexplained  fact  with  himself. 
He  contented  himself  with  saying:  "The  Morrells  had  nothing 
whatever  to  do  with  it,"  It  was  the  only  thing  that  occurred  to 
him  as  worth  saying;  but  it  was  unfortunate,  for  it  left  Nan's 
irritation  without  logical  support.  Naturally  that  irritation  was 
promptly  transferred  to  him. 

"Then  what,  in  heaven's  name,  is  it?"  she  demanded.  "My 
friends  are  all  treating  me  as  if  I  had  the  smallpox." 

"Cheerful  lot  of  friends  we've  made  in  this  town!"  he  said 
bitterly. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  them?"  she  persisted. 

"  The  matter  is  they've  taken  me  for  a  fool  they  could  order 
around  to  suit  themselves.  They  found  they  couldn't.  Now 
they're  through  with  me,  even  Cal  Bennett,"  he  added  in  a  lower 
tone  that  revealed  his  hurt. 

She  paused,  biting  her  underlip. 

"Is  the  trouble  anything  to  do  with  this  Cora  case?"  she 
xsked,  suddenly  enlightened  by  some  vague,  stray  recollection. 

"Of  course!"  he  replied  crossly,  exasperated  at  the  nagging 
necessity  of  arousing  himself  to  explanations.  "There's  no  use 
arguing  about  it.  I'm  going  to  see  it  through  in  spite  of  that 
hound  McDougall  and  his  whole  pack  of  curs!" 

"But  why  have  you  turned  so  against  your  friends?"  she 
°,sked  more  gently,  struck  by  his  careworn  look  as  he  sprawled 
in  the  easy  chair  under ]the  lamp.  "I  don't  see!  You'll  get 
yourself  disliked!" 

She  did  not  press  the  matter  further  for  the  moment,  but 
three  days  later  she  brought  up  the  topic  again.  In  the  interim 
she  had  heard  considerable  direct  and  indirect  opinion.  She 


250  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

selected  after  dinner  as  the  most  propitious  time  for  discussion. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  earlier  in  the  day  would  have  been  better, 
before  Keith's  soul  had  been  rubbed  raw  by  downtown  attrition. 

"I  don't  believe  you  quite  realize  how  strongly  people  feel 
about  the  Cora  case,"  she  began.  "Isn't  it  possible  to  drop  it 
or  compromise  it  or  something,  Milton?" 

In  the  reaction  from  argument  and  coldness  downtown  he 
felt  he  could  stand  no  more  of  it  at  home. 

"  I  wish  you'd  let  that  matter  drop !"  he  said  decidedly.  "  You 
couldn't  understand  it." 

She  hesitated.    A  red  spot  appeared  in  either  cheek. 

"I  must  say  I  don't  understand!"  she  countered.  "It  is  in 
conceivable  to  me  that  a  man  like  you  should  turn  so  easily 
against  his  class!" 

"  My  class  ?  "  he  echoed  wearily. 

"What  do  such  creatures  as  Cora  and  Yankee  Sullivan 
amount  to?"  she  cried  hotly.  "I  suppose  you'll  say  they  are 
in  your  class  next!  How. you  can  consider  them  of  sufficient 
importance  to  go  dead  against  your  best  friends  on  their  ac 
count!" 

"  It  is  because  I  am  right  and  they  are  wrong." 

She  was  a  little  carried  beyond  herself. 

"Well,  they  all  think  the  same  way,"  she  pointed  out."  "Aren't 
you  a  little— a  little— 

"Pig-headed,"  supplied  Keith  bitterly, 
—to  put  your  opinion  against  theirs?  "  she  finished. 

Keith  did  not  reply. 

This  was  Nan's  last  attempt.  She  did  not  bring  up  the  sub 
ject  again.  But  she  withdrew  proudly  and  completely  from 
all  participation  in  society.  She  refused  herself  to  callers. 
Once  the  situation  was  thoroughly  defined,  she  accepted  it. 
If  her  husband  decided  to  play  the  game  in  this  way,  she,  too, 
would  follow,  whether  she  approved  or  not.  Nan  was  loyal 
and  a  thoroughbred.  And  she  was  either  too  proud  or  too  in 
different  to  fight  it  out  with  the  other  women  in  the  rough  and 
tumble  of  social  ambition. 


XLVI 

IN  THIS  voluntary  seclusion  Nan  saw  literally  only  two 
persons.  One  of  these  was  Mrs.  Sherwood.  The  ex- 
gambler's  wife  called  frequently;  and,  for  some  reason, 
Nan  never  refused  to  see  her,  although  she  did  not  make  her 
visitor  particularly  welcome.  Often  an  almost  overmastering 
impulse  seized  her  to  open  her  soul  to  this  charming,  sympathetic, 
tactful  woman,  but  something  always  restrained  her.  Her 
heart  was  too  sore.  And  since  an  inhibited  impulse  usually 
expresses  itself  by  contraries,  her  attitude  was  of  studied  and 
aloof  politeness.  Mrs.  Sherwood  never  seemed  to  notice  this. 
She  sat  in  the  high-ceilinged  "parlour,"  with  its  strange  fresco 
of  painted  fish-nets,  and  chatted  on  in  a  cheerful  monologue, 
detailing  small  gossipy  items  of  news.  She  always  said  good 
bye  cordially,  and  went  out  with  a  wonderful  assumption  of 
ignorance  that  anything  was  wrong.  Her  visits  did  Nan  good, 
although  never  could  the  latter  break  through  the  ice  wall  of 
reserve.  Nan's  conscience  often  hurt  her  that  she  could  answer 
this  genuine  friendship  with  so  little  cordiality.  She  wondered 
dully  how  Mrs.  Sherwood  could  bring  herself  to  be  so  good  to 
so  cross-grained  a  creature  as  herself.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
the  women  were  marking  time  in  their  relations — Mrs.  Sher 
wood  consciously,  Nan  unconsciously — until  better  days. 

The  other  regular  caller  was  Ben  Sansome.  His  attitude 
was  in  some  sense  detached.  He  was  quietly,  deeply  sympa 
thetic  in  his  manner,  never  obtrusive,  never  even  hinting  in  words 
at  his  knowledge  of  the  state  of  affairs,  but  managing  in  some 
subtle  manner  to  convey  the  impression  that  he  alone  fully 
understood.  Nan  found  that,  without  her  realization,  almost 
in  spite  of  herself,  Sansome  had  managed  to  isolate  her  with 


252  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

himself  on  a  little  island  of  mutual  understanding,  apart  from 
all  the  rest  of  the  world. 

Her  life  was  now  becoming  circumscribed.  Household, 
books,  some  small  individual  charities,  and  long  afternoon  walks 
rilled  her  days.  At  first  Sansome  had  accompanied  her  on  these 
tramps,  but  the  unfailing,  almost  uncanny  insight  of  the  man 
told  him  that  at  such  times  her  spirit  really  craved  solitude,  so 
he  soon  tactfully  ceased  all  attempts  to  join  her.  Her  usual 
walk  was  over  the  cliffs  toward  the  bay,  where,  from  some  of  the 
elevations  near  Russian  Hill,  she  could  look  out  to  the  Golden 
Gate,  or  across  to  Tamalpais  or  the  Contra  Costa  shores.  The 
crawl  of  the  distant  blue  water,  the  flash  of  wing  or  sail,  the 
taste  of  salt  rime,  the  canon  shadows  of  the  hills,  the  fly^.g 
murk,  or  the  last  majestic  and  magnificent  blotting  out  of  the 
world  as  the  legions  of  sea  fog  overrolled  it,  all  answered  or 
soothed  moods  in  her  spirit.  Sometimes  she  forgot  herself  and 
overstayed  the  daylight.  At  such  times  she  scuttled  home 
half  fearfully  for  the  great  city,  like  a  jungle  beast,  was  most 
dangerous  at  night. 

One  evening,  returning  thus  in  haste,  she  was  lured  aside 
by  the  clang  of  bells  and  the  glare  of  a  fire.  No  child  ever 
resisted  that  combination,  and  Nan  was  still  a  good  deal  of  a 
child.  Almost  before  she  knew  it  she  was  wedged  fast  in  a 
crowd.  The  pressure  was  suffocating;  and,  to  her  alarm,  she 
found  herself  surrounded  by  a  rough-looking  set  of  men.  They 
were  probably  harmless  workingmen,  but  Nan  did  not  know 
that.  She  became  frightened,  and  tried  to  escape,  but  her 
strength  was  not  equal  to  it.  Near  the  verge  of  panic,  she  was 
fairly  on  the  point  of  struggling,  when  she  felt  an  arm  thrown 
around  her  shoulder.  She  looked  up  with  a  cry,  to  meet  Ben 
Sansome 's  brown  eyes. 

"Don't  be  afraid;  I'm  here,"  he  said  soothingly. 

In  the  revulsion  Nan  fairly  thrilled  under  the  touch  of  his 
manly  protection.  This  impulse  was  followed  instantly  by  an 
instinct  of  withdrawal  from  the  embrace  about  her  shoulder, 
which  was  in  turn  succeeded  by  a  fierce  scorn  of  being  prudish 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  253 

in  such  circumstances.  Sansome  masterfully  worked  her  out 
through  the  press.  At  the  last  tactful  moment  he  withdrew  his 
arm.  She  thanked  him,  still  a  little  frightened. 

"It  was  certainly  lucky  you  happened  to  be  here!"  she  ended. 

"Lucky!"  he  laughed  briefly.  "I  knew  that  sooner  or  later 
you'd  need  me." 

He  stopped  at  that,  but  allowed  her  questions  to  elicit  the 
fact  that  every  afternoon  he  had  followed  her  at  a  discreet  dis 
tance,  scrupulously  respecting  her  privacy,  but  ready  for  the 
need  that  sooner  or  later  must  surely  arrive.  Nan  was  touched. 

"You  have  no  right  to  endanger  yourself  this  way!"  he  cried, 
as  though  carried  away.  "It  is  not  just  to  those  who  care  for 
you!"  and  by  the  tone  of  his  voice,  the  look  of  his  eye,  the  slight 
emphasizing  pressure  of  his  hand  he  managed  to  convey  to  her, 
but  in  a  manner  to  which  she  could  not  possibly  object,  his 
belief  that  his  last  phrase  referred  more  to  himself  than  to  any 
one  else  in  the  world. 

It  was  about  this  period  that  John  Sherwood,  dressing  foi 
dinner,  remarked  to  his  wife: 

"Patsy,  the  more  I  see  of  you  the  more  I  admire  you.  Do 
you  remember  that  Firemen's  Ball  when  you  started  in  to  break 
up  that  Keith-Morrell  affair?  He  dropped  her  so  far  that  I 
haven't  heard  her  plunk  yet!  I  don't  know  what  made  me 
think  of  it — it  was  a  long  time  ago." 

"Yes,  that  was  all  right,"  she  replied  thoughtfully,  "but 
I'm  not  as  pleased  as  I  might  be  with  the  Keith  situation." 

Sherwood  stopped  tying  his  cravat  and  turned  to  face  her. 

"He's  perfectly  straight,  I  assure  you,"  he  said  earnestly.  "I 
don't  believe  he  knows  that  any  other  woman  but  his  wife 
exists.  I  know  that.  But  I  wish  he'd  go  a  little  easier  with  the 
men." 

"Oh,  I  wasn't  thinking  of  him.    She's  the  culprit  now." 

"What!"  cried  Sherwood,  astonished,  "that  little  innocent 
baby!" 

"That  'little  innocent  baby'  is  seeing  altogether  too  much  of 
Ben  Sansome." 


254  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

Sherwood  uttered  a  snort  of  masculine  scorn. 

"Ho!    BenSansome?" 

"Yes,  Ben  Sansome." 

"Why,  he's  a  notorious  butterfly." 

"Well,  it  looks  now  as  though  he  intended  to  alight." 

"Seriously?" 

She  nodded.     Sherwood  slowly  went  on  with  his  dressing. 

"I  like  that  little  creature,"  he  said  at  last.  "  She's  the  sort 
that  strikes  me  as  born  to  be  treated  well  and  to  be  happy. 
Some  people  are  that  way,  you  know;  just  as  others  are  born 
painters  or  plumbers."  She  nodded  in  appreciation.  "And 
if  you  give  the  word,  Patsy,  I'll  go  around  and  have  a  word 
with  Keith — or  spoil  Sansome — whichever  you  say " 

She  laughed. 

"You're  a  dear,  Jack,  but  if  you  love  me,  keep  your  hands 
off  here." 

"Are  you  bossing  this  job?  "  he  asked  gravely. 

"I'm  bossing  this  job,"  she  repeated,  with  equal  gravity. 

He  said  nothing  more  for  a  time,  but  his  eyes  twinkled. 


XLVII 

KEITH'S  investigations  proceeded  until  at  last  he  felt 
justified  in  preferring  before  the  Bar  Association  charges 
of  irregular  practice  against  James  Ware,  Bernard 
Black,  and — to  his  great  regret — Calhoun  Bennett.  He  con 
ceived  be  had  enough  evidence  to  convict  these  men  legally,  but 
he  as  yet  shrank  from  asking  for  an  indictment  against  them, 
preferring  at  first  to  try  for  their  discipline  before  their  fellow 
lawyers.  If  the  Bar  Association  failed,  however,  he  had  every 
intention  of  pressing  the  matter  in  the  courts. 

Almost  immediately  after  the  filing  of  the  complaint  he  was 
waited  on  in  his  office  by  a  man  only  slightly  known  to  him, 
Major  Marmaduke  Miles.  The  major's  occupation  in  life  was 
obscure.  He  was  a  red-faced,  tightly  buttoned,  full-jowled, 
choleric  Southerner  of  the  ultra-punctilious  brand,  always  well 
dressed  in  quaint  and  rather  old-fashioned  garments,  with 
charming  manners,  and  the  reminiscence  of  good  looks  lost 
in  a  florid  and  apoplectic  habit.  This  person  entered  Keith's 
office,  greeted  him  formally,  declined  a  chair.  Standing  very 
erect  before  Keith's  desk,  his  beaver  hat  poised  on  his  left  fore 
arm,  he  said: 

"I  am  requested,  suh,  to  enquiah  of  yo'  the  name  of  a  friend 
with  whom  I  can  confer." 

"  If  that  means  a  challenge,  Major,  I  must  first  ask  the  name 
of  your  principal,"  returned  Keith. 

"I  am  actin'  fo'  Mr.  Calhoun  Bennett,  suh,"  stated  the 
major. 

"Tell  Cal  Bennett  I  will  not  fight  him,"  said  Keith  quietly. 

The  major  was  plainly  flabbergasted,  and  for  a  moment 
puffed  his  red  cheeks  in  and  out  rapidly. 

255 


256  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

"You  mean  to  tell  me,  suh,  that  yo'  refuse  the  satisfaction 
due  a  gentleman  after  affrontin'  him?  " 

"I  won't  fight  Cal  Bennett,"  repeated  Keith  patiently. 

The  major  turned  even  redder,  and  swelled  so  visibly  that 
Keith,  in  spite  of  his  sad  realization  of  the  gravity  of  the  affair, 
caught  himself  guiltily  in  a  boyish  anticipation  that  some  of  the 
major's  strained  buttons  would  pop. 

"I  shall  so  repo't  to  my  principal,  suh.  But  I  may  add,  suh, 
that  in  my  opinion,  suh,  yo'  are  conductin'  yo'self  in  a  manner 
unbecomin'  to  a  gentleman;  and  othuh  gentlemen  will  say  so, 
suh!  They  may  go  even  farthah  and  stigmatize  yo'  conduct 
as  cowardly,  suh!  And  it  might  even  be  that  I,  suh,  would 
agree  with  that  expression,  suh!" 

The  major  glowered.  Keith  smiled  wearily.  It  did  not 
seem  to  him  at  the  moment  that  this  would  be  so  great  a  calam 
ity. 

"I  am  sorry  to  have  forfeited  your  good  opinion,  Major," 
he  contented  himself  with  saying. 

The  major  marched  straight  back  to  the  Monumental,  where 
Bennett  and  a  number  of  friends  were  awaiting  the  result  of 
his  mission.  The  major's  angry  passions  had  been  rising  every 
foot  of  the  way. 

"He  won't  fight,  suh!"  he  bellowed,  slamming  his  cane  across 
the  table.  "He  won't  fight!  And  I  stigmatized  him  to  his 
face  as  a  white-livered  hound!" 

Calhoun  Bennett  sank  back  pale  and  speechless.  His  com 
panions  deluged  him  with  advice. 

"Horsewhip  the  craven  publicly!"  "Warn  him  to  go 
heeled,  and  then  force  the  issue!"  "  Shoot  him  down  like  the 
dog  he  is!" 

But  the  major's  mighty  bellow  dominated  everything. 

"I  claim  the  privilege!"  he  roared.  "Egad,  I  demand  the 
privilege!  It  is  my  right!  I  am  insulted  by  such  a  rebuff! 
Now  that  I  have  acquitted  myself  of  Cal's  errand,  I  will  call 
him  out  myself.  Ain't  that  right.  Cal?  I'll  make  the  hound 
fight!" 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  257 

The  old  major  looked  redder  and  fiercer  than  ever.  There 
could  be  no  doubt  that  he  would  make  any  one  fight,  once  he 
started  out  to  do  so,  and  that  he  would  carry  the  matter  through. 
He  was  brave  enough. 

But  little  Jimmy  Ware,  who  had  been  doing  some  thinking, 
here  spoke  up.  It  seemed  to  him  a  good  chance  to  get  a 
reputation  without  any  risk.  Since  James  King  of  William 
had  uncompromisingly  refused  to  fight  duels,  his  example  had 
been  followed.  A  strong  party  of  those  having  conscientious 
scruples  against  the  practice  had  come  into  being.  Keith's  re 
fusal  to  fight  Bennett,  to  Ware's  mind,  indicated  that  he  be 
longed  to  this  class.  It  looked  safe. 

"Pardon  me,  Major,"  he  broke  in  suavely;  "but  each 
in  turn.  I  claim  the  right.  Cal  had  first  chance  because 
he  had  personally  warned  the  man  of  the  consequences. 
But  I  am  equally  accused.  You  must  admit  my  prior 
claim." 

The  major  came  off  the  boil.  Puffing  his  red  cheeks  in  and 
out  he  considered. 

"  Yo're  right,  suh,"  he  conceded  reluctantly. 

After  considerable  persuasion,  and  some  flattery  as  to  his 
c'amiliarity  with  the  niceties  of  the  Code,  the  major  consented 
to  bear  Jimmy's  defiance.  He  entered  Keith's  office  again, 
stiff er  than  a  ramrod.  Keith  smiled  at  him. 

"There's  no  use,  Major,  I  won't  fight  Cal  Bennett,"  he 
greeted  his  visitor. 

"I  am  the  bearer  of  a  challenge  from  Mistah  James  Ware," 
he  announced. 

"What!"  yelled  Keith,  so  suddenly  and  violently  that  Major 
Miles  recoiled  a  step. 

"  From  Mistah  James  Ware,"  he  repeated. 

Keith  laughed  savagely. 

"Oh,  I'll  fight  him"  he  growled;  "gladly;  any  time  he  wants 
it." 

The  major's  face  lit  up. 

"If  you'll  name  yo'  friend,  suh,"  he  suggested. 


258  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

"Friend?  Friend?  What  for?  I'm  capable  of  arranging 
this.  I  haven't  time  to  hunt  up  a  friend." 

"It's  customary,"  objected  the  major. 

"Look  here,"  Keith  swept  on,  "I'm  the  challenged  party 
and  I  have  the  say-so,  haven't  I  ?  " 

"Yo'  can  name  the  weapons,"  conceded  Major  Marmaduke 
Miles. 

"All  right,  we'll  call  this  revolvers,  navy  revolvers — biggest 
sort  there  are,  whatever  that  is.  And  close  up.  None  of  your 
half-mile  shooting." 

"Ten  yards,"  suggested  Major  Miles  with  unholy  joy. 

"And  right  away — this  afternoon,"  went  on  Keith.  "If 
that  little  runt  wants  trouble,  egad  he's  going  to  have  all  his 
little  skin  will  hold." 

But  the  major  would  not  have  this.  It  was  not  done.  He 
waived  conducting  his  negotiations  through  a  second,  but  that 
was  as  far  as  his  conventional  soul  would  go.  He  held  out  for 
three  o'clock  the  following  afternoon. 

"And  I  wish  to  apologize,  Mistah  Keith,"  he  said,  on  parting, 
"fo'  my  ill-considered  words  of  a  short  time  ago.  I  misunder 
stood  yo'  reasons  fo'  refusin'  to  fight  Mistah  Bennett." 

He  bowed  his  rotund,  tightly  buttoned  little  figure  and  de 
parted,  to  strike  Jimmy  Ware  with  complete  consternation. 

Duels  in  the  fifties  were  almost  an  acknowledged  public  in 
stitution.  Although  technically  illegal,  no  one  was  ever  con 
victed  of  any  of  the  consequences  of  such  encounters.  They 
were  conducted  quite  openly.  Indeed,  some  of  the  more  famous 
were  actively  advertised  by  steamboat  men,  who  carried  excur 
sions  to  the  field.  Keith's  acceptance  of  Ware's  challenge 
aroused  the  keenest  interest.  Outside  the  prominence  of  the 
men  involved,  a  vague  feeling  was  current  that  in  their  persons 
were  symbolized  opposing  forces  in  the  city's  growth.  As  yet 
these  forces  had  not  segregated  to  that  point  where  champions 
were  demanded,  or  indeed  would  be  recognized  as  such;  but 
vague  feelings  of  antagonism,  of  alignments,  were  abroad.  Those 
who  later  would  constitute  the  Law  and  Order  class  generally 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  259 

sympathized  with  Ware;  those  whom  history  was  to  know  as  the 
Vigilantes  felt  stirrings  of  partisanship  for  Keith.  Therefore, 
the  following  afternoon  a  small  flotilla  set  sail  for  the  Contra 
Costa  shore,  and  a  crowd  of  several  hundred  spectators  disem 
barked  at  the  chosen  duelling  ground. 

Nan  knew  nothing  of  all  this.  Keith  was  now  in  such  depths 
of  low  spirits  that  his  wearied  soul  did  not  much  care  what 
became  of  him.  He  put  his  affairs  in  shape,  shrugged  his  shoul 
ders,  and  went  to  the  encounter  with  absolute  indifference. 

The  preliminaries  were  soon  over.  Keith  found  himself 
facing  Jimmy  Ware  at  the  distance  he  had  himself  chosen.  A 
double  line  of  spectators  stood  at  a  respectful  space  on  either 
side.  Major  Miles  and  an  acquaintance  of  Keith's  who  had 
volunteered  to  act  for  him  were  posted  nearer  at  hand.  Keith 
had  listened  attentively  to  the  instructions.  The  word  was 
to  be  given — one,  two,  three.  Fire!  Between  the  first  and  last 
words  the  duellists  were  to  discharge  the  first  shot  from  their 
weapons.  After  that  they  were  to  fire  at  will.  One  shot  would 
have  sufficed  Jimmy  Ware;  but  Keith,  without  emotion,  filled 
with  a  dead  indifference  to  any  possible  danger  and  a  savage 
contempt  for  the  whole  proceedings,  had  insisted  on  the  full 
measure.  He  was  totally  unaccustomed  to  weapons.  At  the 
word  of  command  he  raised  the  revolver  and  fired,  carelessly 
but  coolly,  and  without  result.  One  after  the  other  he  dis 
charged  the  six  chambers  of  his  weapon,  aiming  as  well  as  he 
knew  how.  It  did  not  occur  to  him  that  Ware  was  firing  at 
him.  After  the  sixth  miss  he  threw  the  revolver  away  in  cold 
disgust. 

"This  is  a  farce,"  said  he,  "and  I'm  not  going  to  be  fool 
enough  to  take  part  in  it  any  longer." 

Jimmy  Ware,  delighted  at  finding  himself  unharmed,  and 
confident  now  that  a  bluff  would  go,  started  to  say  something 
lofty  and  disdainful.  Keith  whirled  back  on  him. 

"If  you  want  'satisfaction,'  as  you  call  it,  you'll  get  it,  and 
you'll  get  it  plenty!  I'm  sick  of  being  made  a  fool  of.  Just 
open  your  ugly  head  to  me  again,  and  I'll  knock  it  off  your 


26o  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

shoulders!"  His  eye  smouldered  dangerously,  and  Jimmy 
Ware,  very  uncertain  in  his  mind,  took  refuge  in  a  haughty  look. 
Keith  glared  at  him  a  moment,  then  turned  to  the  crowd:  "I'll 
give  all  of  you  fair  warning,"  said  he.  "  I'm  going  to  do  my  legal 
duty  in  all  things;  and  I'm  not  going  to  fight  duels.  Anybody 
who  interferes  with  me  is  going  to  get  into  trouble! " 

An  uproar  ensued.  All  this  was  most  irregular,  unprece 
dented,  a  disgrace  to  a  gentlemen's  meeting.  The  major  roared 
like  a  bull.  If  a  man  would  not  fight,  would  not  defend  his 
actions,  how  could  a  gentleman  get  at  him  except  by  street 
brawling  or  assassination,  and  both  of  these  were  repugnant 
to  finer  feelings.  A  dozen  fire-eaters  felt  themselves  personally 
insulted.  The  crowd  surrounded  Keith,  shouting  at  him,  jos 
tling  him,  threatening.  A  cool,  somewhat  amused  voice  broke  in. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Talbot  Ward,  in  so  decided  a  tone  that 
they  turned  to  hear,  "I  am  a  neutral  non-partisan  in  this  little 
war.  I  am  for  neither  party,  for  neither  opinion  in  the  matter. 
I,  like  Mr.  Keith,  never  fight  duels.  But  may  I  suggest — 
merely  in  the  interest  of  fair  play — that  for  the  moment  you  are 
forgetting  yourselves?  My  opinion  coincides  with  Mr.  Keith's 
that  duelling  is  a  foolish  sort  of  game,  but  it  is  a  game,  and 
recognized;  and  if  you  are  going  to  play  it,  why  not  stick  to  its 
rules?  Mr.  Keith  and  Mr.  Ware  have  exchanged  shots.  Mr. 
Ware  has  therefore  had  'satisfaction.'  Now  Mr.  Keith  and  I 
are  going  to  walk — quietly — to  the  boat.  We  do  not  expect  to 
be  molested." 

"By  God,  Tal!"  cried  Major  Miles  in  astonishment,  "yo' 
don't  mean  to  tell  me  yo're  linin'  yourself  up  on  the  side  of 
that  blackleg!" 

"Well,"  put  in  a  new  voice,  a  very  cheerful  voice,  "I  don't 
pretend  to  be  neutral,  and  I'd  just  as  lief  fight  duels  as  not, 
and  I'm  willing  to  state  to  you  all  that  though  I  don't  know 
a  damn  thing  about  this  case  nor  its  merits,  I  like  this  man's 
style.  And  I'm  ready  to  state  that  I'll  take  his  place  and  fight 
any — or  all  of  you — right  here  and  now.  You,  Major?  " 

All  eyes  turned  to  him.    He  was  a  dark,  eager  youth,  standing 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  261 

with  his  slouch  hat  in  his  hand,  his  head  thrown  back,  his  mop  of 
shiny  black  hair  tossed  from  his  forehead,  his  eyes  glowing.  The 
major  hummed  and  fussed. 

"I  have  absolutely  no  quarrel  with  you,  suh! "  he  said. 

"Nor  with  my  friend  yonder?"  insisted  the  newcomer. 

"I  should  esteem  it  beneath  my  dignity  to  fight  with  a  craven 
and  a  coward,  suh!"  the  major  saved  his  face. 

The  stranger  glanced  at  Keith,  an  amused  light  in  his  eyes. 

"We'll  let  it  go  at  that,"  he  conceded.  "Anybody  else?"  he 
challenged,  eying  them. 

Every  one  seemed  busy  getting  ready  to  go  home,  and  ap 
peared  not  to  hear  him.  After  a  moment  he  put  on  his  felt  hat 
and  joined  Keith  and  Ward,  who  were  walking  slowly  toward  the 
landing. 

"Well,"  remarked  a  rough-looking  Yankee — our  old  friend 
Graves  of  the  Eurekas  to  his  friend  Carter — "I  didn't  know 
anything  would  cool  off  the  major  like  that!" 

"I  reckon  the  major  knew  who  he  was  talking  to,"  replied 
Carter. 

"Who  is  the  cuss?    I  never  saw  him  before." 

"  Don't  you  know  him?  I  reckon  you  must  have  heard  of  him, 
anyway.  He's  just  down  from  the  Sierra.  That's  the  express 
rider,  Johnny  Fairfax — Diamond  Jack,  they  call  him." 

Graves  whistled  an  enlightened  whistle. 


XLVIII 

JOHNNY  FAIRFAX  accompanied  Keith  all  the  way  back 
to  his  office,  although  Talbot  Ward  said  good-bye  at 
the  wharves.  He  bubbled  over  with  conversation  and 
enthusiasm,  and  seemed  to  have  taken  a  great  fancy  to  the 
lawyer.  The  theme  of  his  glancing  talk  was  the  duel,  over 
which  he  was  immensely  amused;  but  from  it  he  diverged  on  the 
slightest  occasion  to  comment  on  whatever  for  the  moment 
struck  his  notice. 

"That  was  certainly  the  rottenest  shooting  I  ever  saw!"  he 
exclaimed  over  and  over,  and  then  would  go  off  into  peals  of 
laughter.  "I  don't  see  how  twelve  shots  at  that  distance  could 
miss!  After  the  second  exchange  I  concluded  even  the  side  line 
wasn't  safe,  and  I  got  behind  a  tree.  Pays  to  be  prompt  in  your 
decision;  there  were  a  hundred  applicants  for  that  tree  a  moment 
later.  The  bloodless  duel  as  a  parlour  amusement !  You  ought 
to  have  charged  that  large  and  respectable  audience  an  admission 
fee!  That's  a  good  idea;  I'll  present  it  to  you !  If  you  ever  have 
another  duel,  you  must  have  a  good  manager !  There's  money  in 
it!" 

Keith  laughed  a  trifle  ruefully. 

"  I  suppose  it  was  funny,"  he  acknowledged. 

"Now  don't  get  huffy,"  begged  Johnny  Fairfax.  "What  you 
ought  to  do  is  to  learn  to  shoot.  You'll  probably  need  to  know 
how  if  you  keep  on  living  around  here."  His  eye  fell  on  a  shoot 
ing  gallery.  "Come  in  here,"  he  urged  impulsively. 

The  proprietor  was  instructed  to  load  his  pistols  and  for  a 
dozen  shots  Keith  was  coached  vehemently  in  the  elementals  of 
shooting— taught  at  least  the  theory  of  pulling  steadily,  of  co 
ordinating  various  muscles  and  psychological  processes  that 

262 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  263 

were  not  at  all  used  to  coordination.  He  learned  that  mere 
steady  aiming  was  a  small  part  of  it. 

"Anybody  can  do  wonderful  shooting  with  an  empty  pistol," 
said  Johnny  contemptuously.  "And  anybody  can  hold  as 
steady  as  a  rock — until  he  pulls  the  trigger." 

"It's  interesting,"  conceded  Keith;  "mighty  interesting.  I 
didn't  know  there  was  so  much  to  it" 

"Of  course  it's  interesting,"  said  Johnny.  "And  you're  only 
at  the  rudiments.  Look  here!" 

And,  to  the  astonishment  of  Keith,  the  worshipful  adoration  of 
the  shooting-gallery  proprietor,  and  the  awe  of  the  usual  audience 
that  gathered  at  the  sound  of  the  reports,  he  proceeded  to  give  an 
exhibition  of  the  skill  that  had  made  him  famous.  The  shooting 
galleries  of  those  days  used  no  puny  twenty-twos.  Derringers, 
pocket  revolvers,  and  the  huge  "navies"  were  at  hand — with 
reduced  loads,  naturally — for  those  who  in  habitual  life  affected 
these  weapons.  Johnny  shot  with  all  of  them,  displaying  the 
tricks  of  the  gunman  with  all  the  naive  enthusiasm  of  youth. 
His  manner  throughout  was  that  engaging  mixture  of  modesty 
afraid  of  being  thought  conceited  and  eager  pride  hi  showing  his 
skill  so  attractive  to  everybody.  At  first  he  shot  deliberately, 
splitting  cards,  hitting  marbles,  and  devastating  whole  rows  of 
clay  pipes.  Then  he  took  to  secreting  the  weapons  in  various 
pockets  from  which  he  produced  and  discharged  them  in  light 
ning  time.  His  hand  darted  with  the  speed  and  precision  of  a 
snake's  head. 

"I've  just  been  fooling  with  shooting  things  tossed  in  the  air," 
he  said,  exuberant  with  enthusiasm.  "But  I'm  afraid  we  can't 
try  that  here." 

"I'm  afraid  not,"  agreed  the  proprietor  regretfully. 

"  It  really  isn't  very  hard,  once  you  get  the  knack." 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  the  proprietor  with  elaborate  sarcasm.  "  Say," 
he  went  on  earnestly,"!  suppose  it  ain't  no  use  trying  to  hire 
you " 

Johnny  shook  his  head,  smiling. 

"I  was  afraid  not,"  observed  the  proprietor  disappointedly. 


264  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

"You'd  be  the  making  of  this  place.  Drop  in  any  time  you 
want  practice.  Won't  cost  you  a  cent.  Would  you  mind 
telling  me  your  name?  " 

"  Fairfax,"  replied  Johnny,  gruffly  embarrassed. 

"Not  Diamond  Jack?"  hesitated  the  proprietor. 

"I'm  sometimes  called  that,"  conceded  Johnny,  stiU  more 
gruffly.  "  How  much  is  it?  " 

"Not  one  gosh-dinged  continental  red  cent,"  cried  the  man; 
"and  I'm  pleased  to  meet  you." 

Johnny  shook  his  extended  hand,  mumbled  something,  and 
bolted  for  the  street.  Keith  followed,  laughing. 

"It  seems  you're  quite  a  celebrity,"  he  observed. 

But  Johnny  refused  to  pursue  that  subject. 

"You  come  with  me  and  buy  you  a  pistol,"  he  growled.  "You 
ought  not  to  be  allowed  loose.  You're  as  helpless  as  a  baby." 

Johnny  picked  out  a  small  .31  calibre  revolver  and  a  supply  of 
ammunition. 

"Now  you  practise!"  was  his  final  warning  and  advice. 

Keith  went  home  with  a  new  glow  at  his  heart.  He  was  ripe 
for  a  friend. 

Johnny  seemed  to  have  little  to  do  for  the  moment.  He  never 
volunteered  information  as  to  his  business  or  his  plans,  and  Keith 
never  inquired.  But  the  young  express  rider  fell  into  the  habit 
of  dropping  in  at  Keith's  office.  He  was  always  very  apologetic 
and  solicitous  as  to  whether  or  no  he  was  interrupting,  saying  that 
he  had  stopped  for  only  ten  seconds;  but  he  invariably  ended  in 
the  swivel  chair  with  a  good  cigar.  Keith  was  at  this  time  busy; 
but  he  was  never  too  busy  for  Johnny  Fairfax.  The  latter  was  a 
luxury  to  which  he  treated  himself.  Johnny  was  not  only  wel 
come  because  he  was  practically  Keith's  only  friend,  but  also  his 
frank  and  engaging  comments  on  men  and  things  were  gradually 
giving  the  harassed  lawyer  a  new  point  of  view  on  the  society  in 
which  he  found  himself.  Keith,  as  a  newcomer  in  a  community 
already  established,  had  naturally  accepted  the  prominent 
figures  in  that  community  as  he  would  have  accepted  prominent 
figures  anywhere:  that  is,  as  respectable,  formidable,  admirable, 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  265 

solid,  unquestioned  pillars  of  society.  He  was  of  a  modest 
disposition  and  disinclined  to  question.  He  respected  them  as 
any  modest  young  man  respects  those  older  and  more  successful 
than  himself.  For  the  same  reason  he  accepted  their  views  and 
their  authority;  or,  if  he  questioned  them,  he  did  so  sadly,  almost 
guiltily,  with  many  heart-searchings. 

But  Johnny  Fairfax  held  no  such  attitude.  Not  he!  The 
city's  great  names  had  scant  respect  from  him!  Not  for  an 
instant  did  he  hesitate  to  criticise  or  analyze  the  most  renowned. 
It  was  not  long  before  he  learned  all  about  the  Cora  trial  and 
Keith's  subsequent  efforts  to  discipline  McDougall  and  his  as 
sociates. 

"I  hope  you  get  'em! "  said  he;  "  the  whole  lot!  I  don't  know 
much  about  this  McDougall;  but  I  do  know  his  friends,  and  most 
of  'em  aren't  worth  thinkin'  about.  They're  big  people  here,  but 
back  where  I  came  from,  in  old  Virginia,  the  best  of  'em  wouldn't 
be  overseers  on  a  plantation.  That's  why  they  like  it  so  much 
out  here.  Look  at  that  gang!  Casey  has  been  in  the  peni 
tentiary,  Rowlee  ran  some  little  blackleg  sheet  down  South 

until  they  run  him  out I  tell  you,  sir,  as  a  Southerner  I'm  not 

proud  of  the  Southerners  out  here.  They're  a  cheap  lot,  most  of 
'em.  They  were  a  cheap  lot  home.  The  only  difference  is  that 
back  there  everybody  knew  it,  and  out  here  everybody  thinks 
they're  great  people  because  they  get  up  on  their  hind  legs  and 
say  so  out  loud.  That  old  bluff,  Major  Miles,  he  was  put  out  of 
a  Richmond  club,  sir,  for  cheatin'  at  cards — I  know  that  for  a 
fact!" 

Somehow,  this  frank  criticism  was  like  a  breeze  of  fresh  air  to 
Keith:  it  put  new  courage  into  him.  Johnny  Fairfax  had  no 
interests  in  the  city;  he  had  no  fear;  his  viewpoint  was  free  from 
all  sham;  he  was  newly  in  from  the  outside.  Through  his  eyes 
things  fell  into  perspective.  Suddenly  San  Francisco  upper 
society  became  to  Keith  what  it  really  was:  a  welter  of  cheap, 
bragging,  venal,  self-seeking  men,  with  here  and  there  an  honest 
fine  character  standing  high  above.  And  he  began,  but  dimly,  to 
see  that  the  real  men  of  the  place  were  not — as  yet— well  known. 


266  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

Probably  one  of  the  most  impressive  and  typical  figures  of  the 
time  was  Justice  of  the  Supreme  Court  Terry.  In  the  eyes  of 
those  too  close  to  events  to  have  a  clear  sense  of  proportion,  he 
was  one  of  the  great  men  of  his  period.  Courtly,  handsome,  with 
haughty  manners,  of  aristocratic  bearing,  fiercely  proud,  touchily 
quarrelsome  on  "points  of  honour,"  generous  but  a  bitter  hater, 
he  and  his  equally  handsome,  proud,  and  fiery  wife  were  con 
sidered  by  many  people  of  the  time  as  embodying  the  ideal  of 
Southern  chivalry.  But  Johnny  Fairfax  would  have  none  of  it. 

"He  a  typical  Southern  gentleman!"  he  laughed.  "As  being 
born  in  the  South  myself,  I  repudiate  that!  I  know  too  much 
about  Terry.  Why,  look  here:  he's  a  good  sport,  and  he's  got 
ability,  and  he  makes  friends,  and  he  isn't  afraid  of  anything. 
But  then  you  stop.  He's  not  a  gentleman!  It  shows  most 
particularly  when  he  gets  mad.  Then  he'll  throw  over  anything 
— anything — to  have  his  own  way.  He's  a  big  man  now,  but  he 
won't  be  knee-high  to  a  June  bug  before  he  gets  done." 

Johnny's  prediction  was  long  in  fulfilment;  but  a  score  of 
years  later  it  came  to  pass,  and  Judge  Terry's  reputation  has 
sunk  almost  to  the  level  of  that  of  his  brother  on  the  bench — 
Judge"  Ned  "McGowan. 

"They're  all  a  bad  lot,"  Johnny  finished,  "and  I  hope  you  lick 
them!  You  don't  know  all  the  good  folks  in  this  town  yet!" 


XLIX 

CALHOUN  BENNETT  dropped  the  matter,  and  con 
tented  himself  with  cutting  Keith  dead  whenever  they 
happened  to  meet.    Jimmy  Ware  and  Black  were  men  of 
a  different  sort;  indeed  McDougall  had  made  them  his  associates 
mainly  because  of  their  knowledge  of  the  city's  darker  phases  and 
their  unscrupulousness.    In  the  admirable  organization  thus 
sketched  Calhoun  Bennett  had  acted  as  a  sort  of  go-between. 

After  the  duel  these  two  precious  citizens  held  many  anxious  con 
sultations.  They  could  not  tell  just  how  much  evidence  Keith  had 
succeeded  in  gathering,  but  they  knew  that  plenty  of  it  existed. 
If  the  matter  came  to  an  issue,  they  suspected  the  consequences 
might  be  serious.  Either  Keith  or  his  evidence  must  in  some  way 
be  got  rid  of.  Black,  who  was  inclined  by  instinct  and  training  to 
be  direct,  was  in  favour  of  the  simple  expedient  of  hiring  assassins. 

"Won't  do,"  negatived  the  more  astute  Ware.  "The  thing 
will  be  traced  back  to  us — not  legally,  of  course,  but  to  a  moral 
certainty,  and  while  they  won't  be  able  to  prove  anything  on  us, 
the  state  of  the  public  mind  is  such  that  hell  would  pop." 

"He  says  he  won't  fight  another  duel,"  said  Black  doubtfully. 

"No." 

"We've  got  to  kill  him  in  a  street  quarrel,  then." 

"He's  got  to  be  killed  in  a  street  quarrel,  "amended  Ware,"  that's 
certain;  but  nobody  even  remotely  connected  with  this  Cora  trial 
must  seem  to  have  anything  to  do  with  it.  It  must  have  the  ap 
pearance  of  a  private  quarrel  from  away  outside.  Otherwise " 

"  Got  anybody  in  mind?  "  asked  the  practical  Black. 

"Yes,  and  he  ought  to  be  here  at  any  moment." 

As  though  Jimmy  Ware's  words  had  been  the  cue  for  which  he 
waited,  Morrell  here  entered  the  room. 

267 


L 

A?  THREE  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  of  May  14,  1856, 
the  current  issue  of  the  'Bulletin  was  placed  on  sale.  A 
very  few  minutes  later  a  copy  found  its  way  into  the 
hands  of  James  Casey.  Casey  at  that  time,  in  addition  to  his 
political  cares,  was  editor  of  a  small  sheet  he  called  the  Sunday 
Times.  With  this  he  had  strenuously  supported  the  extreme  wing 
of  the  Law  party,  which,  as  has  been  explained,  comprised  also 
the  gambling  and  lawless  element.  It  was  suspected  by  some  that 
his  paper  was  more  or  less  subsidized  for  the  purpose,  though 
the  probability  is  that  Casey  found  his  reward  merely  in  political 
support.  This  Casey  it  was  who,  to  his  own  vast  surprise,  had 
at  a  previous  election  been  returned  as  elected  supervisor;  al 
though  he  was  not  a  candidate,  his  name  was  not  on  the  ticket, 
and  no  man  could  be  found  who  had  voted  for  him.  Indeed, 
he  was  not  even  a  resident  of  the  district.  However,  Yankee 
Sullivan,  who  ran  the  election,  said  officially  the  votes  had  been 
cast  for  him;  so  elected  he  was  proclaimed.  Undoubtedly  he 
proved  useful;  he  had  always  proved  useful  at  elections  and 
elsewhere,  seldom  appearing  in  person,  but  adept  at  selecting 
suitable  agents.  His  methods  were  devious,  dishonest,  and 
rough.  He  was  head  of  the  Crescent  Fire  Engine  Company, 
and  was  personally  popular.  In  appearance  he  was  a 
short,  slight  man,  with  a  bright,  keen  face,  a  good  forehead, 
a  thin  but  florid  countenance,  dark  curly  hair,  and  light  blue 
eyes,  a  type  of  unscrupulous  Irish  adventurer  with  a  dash 
of  romantic  ideals.  Like  all  the  gentlemen  rovers  of  his 
time,  he  was  exceedingly  touchy  on  the  subject  of  "hon 
our." 

In  the  Bulletin  of  the  date  mentioned  James  Casey  read  these 

268 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  269 

words,  apropos  of  the  threat  of  one  Bagby  to  shoot  Casey  on 
sight: 

It  does  not  matter  how  bad  a  man  Casey  had  been,  or  how 
much  benefit  it  might  be  to  the  public  to  have  him  out  of  the 
way,  we  cannot  accord  to  any  one  citizen  the  right  to  kill  him,  or 
even  beat  him,  without  justifiable  provocation.  The  fact  that 
Casey  has  been  an  inmate  of  Sing  Sing  prison  in  New  York  is  no 
offence  against  the  laws  of  this  State;  nor  is  the  fact  of  his  having 
stuffed  himself  through  the  ballot  box,  as  elected  to  the  Board  of 
Supervisors  from  a  district  where  it  is  said  he  was  not  even  a 
candidate,  any  justification  for  Mr.  Bagby  to  shoot  Casey,  how 
ever  richly  the  latter  may  deserve  to  have  his  neck  stretched  for 
such  fraud  on  the  public. 

Casey  read  this  in  the  full  knowledge  that  thousands  of  his 
fellow-citizens  would  also  read  it.  His  thin  face  turned  white 
with  anger.  He  crumpled  the  paper  into  a  ball  and  hurled  it 
violently  into  the  gutter,  settled  his  hat  more  firmly  on  his  head, 
and  proceeded  at  once  to  the  Bulletin  office  with  the  full  in 
tention  of  shooting  King  on  sight.  Probably  he  would  have 
done  so,  save  for  the  accidental  circumstance  that  King  happened 
to  be  busy  at  a  table,  his  back  squarely  to  the  door.  Casey 
could  not  shoot  a  man  in  the  back  without  a  word.  He  was 
breathless  and  stuttering  with  excitement.  King  was  alone, 
but  an  open  door  into  an  adjoining  office  permitted  two  wit 
nesses  to  see  and  hear. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that  article?"  cried  Casey  in  a 
strangled  voice. 

King  turned  slowly,  and  examined  his  visitor  for  a  moment. 

"What  article?"  he  inquired  at  last. 

"That  which  says  I  was  formerly  an  inmate  of  Sing  Sing!" 

King  gazed  at  him  with  a  depth  of  detached,  patient  sad 
ness  in  his  dark  eyes. 

"Is  it  not  true?"  he  asked  finally. 

"That  is  not  the  question,"  retorted  Casey,  trying  again 
to  work  himself  up  to  the  rage  in  which  he  had  entered.  "I 


27o  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

do  not  wish  my  past  acts  raked  up:  on  that  point  I  am  sen 
sitive." 

A  faint  smile  came  and  went  on  King's  lips. 

"Are  you  done?"  he  asked  still  quietly;  then,  receiving  no 
reply,  he  turned  in  his  chair  and  leaned  forward  with  a  sudden 
intensity.  His  next  words  hit  with  the  impact  of  bullets: 
"There's  the  door!  Go!  Never  show  your  face  here  again!" 
he  commanded. 

Casey  found  himself  moving  toward  the  open  door.  He  did 
not  want  to  do  this,  he  wanted  to  shoot  King,  or  at  least  to  pro 
voke  a  quarrel,  but  he  was  for  the  moment  overcome  by  a 
stronger  personality.  At  the  door  he  gathered  himself  together 
a  little. 

"I'll  say  in  my  paper  what  I  please! "  he  asserted  with  a  show 
of  bravado. 

King  was  leaning  back,  watching  him  steadily. 

"You  have  a  perfect  right  to  do  so,"  he  rejoined.  "I  shall 
never  notice  your  paper." 

Casey  struck  himself  on  the  breast. 

"And  if  necessary  I  shall  defend  myself!"  he  cried. 

King's  passivity  broke.  He  bounded  from  his  seat  bristling 
with  anger. 

"Go!"  he  commanded  sharply,  and  Casey  went. 


LI 

PEOPLE  had  already  read  King's  article  in  the  Bulletin. 
People  had  seen  Casey  heading  for  the  Bulletin  office 
with  blood  in  his  eye.  The  news  had  spread.  When  the 
Irishman  emerged  he  found  waiting  for  him  a  curious  crowd. 
His  friends  crowded  around  asking  eager  questions.  Casey 
answered  with  vague  but  bloodthirsty  generalities:  he  wasn't 
a  man  to  be  trifled  with,  and  egad  some  people  had  to  find  that 
out!  blackmailing  was  not  a  healthy  occupation  when  it  was 
aimed  at  a  gentleman!  He  left  the  impression  that  King  had 
recanted,  had  apologized,  had  even  begged — there  would  be  no 
more  trouble.  Uttering  brags  of  this  sort,  Casey  led  the  way 
to  the  Bank  Exchange,  a  fashionable  bar  near  at  hand.  Here 
he  set  up  the  drinks,  and  was  treated  in  turn.  His  bragging 
became  more  boastful.  He  made  a  fine  impression,  but  with 
in  his  breast  the  taste  of  his  interview  with  King  curdled  into 
dangerous  bitterness.  Casey  could  never  stand  much  alcohol. 
The  well-meant  admiration  and  sympathy  of  his  friends  served 
only  to  increase  his  hidden,  smouldering  rage.  His  eyes  be 
came  bloodshot,  and  he  talked  even  more  at  random. 

In  the  group  that  surrounded  him  was  our  old  acquaintance, 
Judge  Edward  McGowan — Ned  McGowan — jolly,  hard  drink 
ing,  oily,  but  not  as  noisy  as  usual.  He  was  watching  Casey 
closely.  The  Honourable  Ned  was  himself  a  fugitive  from 
Pennsylvania  justice.  By  dint  of  a  gay  life,  a  happy  combina 
tion  of  bullying  and  intrigue,  he  had  made  himself  a  place  in 
the  new  city,  and  at  last  had  "risen"  to  the  bench.  He  was 
apparently  all  on  the  surface,  but  his  schemes  ran  deep.  Some 
historians  claim  that  he  had  furnished  King  the  documents 
proving  Casey  an  ex-convict!  Now,  when  he  considered  the 

271 


272  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

moment  opportune,  he  drew  Casey  aside  from  the  noisy  group 
at  the  bar. 

"All  this  talk  is  very  well,"  he  said  contemptuously  to  the 
Irishman,  "but  I  see  through  it  What  are  you  going  to  do 
about  it?" 

'Til  get  even  with  the ,  don't  you  worry  about  that!" 

promised  Casey,  still  blustering. 

This  McGowan  brushed  aside  as  irrelevant.  "Are  you 
armed?"  he  asked.  "No,  that  little  weapon  is  too  uncertain. 
Take  this."  He  glanced  about  him,  and  hastily  passed  to  Casey 
a  big  "navy"  revolver.  "You  can  hide  it  under  your  cloak- 
so!"  He  fixed  Casey's  eyes  with  his  own,  and  brought  to  bear 
on  the  little  man  all  the  force  of  his  very  vital  personality. 
" Listen:  King  comes  by  here  every  evening.  Everybody  knows 
that,  and  everybody  knows  what  has  happened." 

He  stared  at  Casey  significantly  for  a  moment,  then  turned 
abruptly  away.  Casey,  become  suddenly  quiet,  his  blustering 
mood  fallen  from  him,  his  face  thoughtful  and  white,  his  eyes 
dilated,  said  nothing.  He  returned  to  the  bar,  took  a  solitary 
drink,  and  walked  out  the  door,  his  right  hand  concealed  be 
neath  his  long  cloak.  McGowan  watched  him  intently,  follow 
ing  to  the  door  and  looking  after  the  other's  retreating  form. 
Casey  walked  across  the  street,  but  stopped  behind  a  wagon, 
where  he  stood,  apparently  waiting.  McGowan,  with  a  grunt 
of  satisfaction,  sauntered  deliberately  to  the  corner  of  the 
Bank  Exchange.  There  he  leaned  against  the  wall,  also 
waiting. 

For  nearly  an  hour  the  two  thus  remained:  Casey  shrouded  in 
his  cloak,  apparently  oblivious  to  everything  except  the  corner 
of  Merchant  and  Montgomery  streets,  on  which  he  kept  his  eyes 
fixed;  McGowan  lounging  easily,  occasionally  speaking  a  low 
word  to  a  passerby.  Invariably  the  person  so  addressed  came 
to  a  stop.  Soon  a  little  group  had  formed,  idling  with  Judge 
McGowan.  A  small  boy  happening  by  was  commandeered 
with  a  message  for  Pete  Wrightman,  the  deputy  sheriff,  and 
shortly  Pete  arrived  out  of  breath  to  join  the  group. 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  273 

At  just  five  o'clock  the  idlers  stiffened  to  attention.  King's 
figure  was  seen  to  turn  the  corner  of  Merchant  Street  into  Mont 
gomery.  Head  bent,  he  walked  toward  the  corner  of  the 
Bankers'  Exchange,  the  men  on  the  corner  watching  him. 
When  nearly  at  that  point  he  turned  to  cross  the  street  diago 
nally. 

At  the  same  instant  Casey  stepped  forward  from  behind  the 
wagon,  throwing  back  his  cloak. 


LII 

THE  same  afternoon  Johnny  Fairfax  and  Keith  were  sitting 
together  in  the  MonumentaPs  reading-room.  They 
happened  to  be  the  only  members  in  the  building  with 
the  exception  of  Bert  Taylor,  who  was  never  anywhere  else.  Of 
late  Keith  had  acquired  the  habit  of  visiting  the  reading-room 
at  this  empty  hour.  He  was  beginning  to  shrink  from  meeting 
his  fellowmen.  Johnny  Fairfax  was  a  great  comfort  to  him,  for 
the  express  rider  was  never  out  of  spirits,  had  a  sane  outlook, 
and  entertained  a  genuine  friendship  for  the  young  lawyer. 
Although  yet  under  thirty  years  of  age,  he  was  already  an  "  old- 
timer,"  for  he  had  come  out  in  '49,  and  knew  the  city's  early 
history  at  first  hand. 

"This  old  bell  of  yours  is  historical,"  he  told  Keith.  "It's 
tolling  called  together  the  Vigilantes  of  '51." 

They  sat  gossiping  for  an  hour,  half  sleepy  with  reaction 
from  the  fatigues  of  the  day,  smoking  slowly,  enjoying 
themselves.  Everything  was  very  peaceful — the  long  slant 
of  a  sunbeam  through  dust  motes,  the  buzz  of  an  early  blue 
bottle,  the  half-heard  activities  of  some  of  the  servants  in 
the  pantry  beyond,  preparing  for  the  rush  of  the  cocktail 
hour.  Suddenly  Johnny  raised  his  head  and  pricked  up  his 
ears. 

"What  the  deuce  is  that!"  he  exclaimed. 

They  listened,  then  descended  to  the  big  open  engine-room 
doors  and  listened  again.  From  the  direction  of  Market  Street 
came  the  dull  sounds  of  turmoil,  shouting,  the  growl  and  roar 
of  many  people  excited  by  something.  Across  the  Plaza  a 
man  appeared,  running.  As  he  came  nearer,  both  could  see 
that  his  face  had  a  very  grim  expression. 

274 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  275 

"Here!"  called  Johnny,  as  the  man  neared  them.  "Stop  a 
minute!  Tell  us  what's  the  matter! " 

The  man  ceased  running,  but  did  not  stop.  He  was  panting 
but  evidently  very  angry.  His  words  came  frcm  between 
gritted  teeth. 

"  Fight,"  he  said  briefly.  "  Casey  and  James  King  of  William. 
King's  shot." 

At  the  words  something  seemed  to  be  stilled  in  Keith's  mind. 
Johnny  seized  the  man  by  the  sleeve. 

"Hold  on,"  he  begged.  "I  know  that  kind  of  a  fight.  Tell 
us." 

"Casey  went  up  close  to  King,  said  'come  on,'  and  instantly 
shot  him  before  King  knew  what  he  was  saying." 

"Killed?" 

"Fatally  wounded." 

"Where's  Casey?" 

"In  jail — of  course — where  he's  safe — with  his  friends." 

"Where  you  headed  for?" 

"I'm  going  to  get  my  gun!"  said  the  man  grimly,  and  began 
again  to  run. 

They  watched  his  receding  figure  until  it  swung  around  the 
corner  and  disappeared.  Without  warning  a  white-hot  wave 
of  anger  swept  over  Keith.  All  the  little  baffling,  annoying 
delays,  enmities,  technicalities,  chicaneries,  personal  antago 
nisms,  evasions  that  had  made  up  the  Cora  trial  were  in  it.  He 
seemed  to  see  clearly  the  inevitable  outcome  of  this  trial  also. 
It  would  be  another  Cora-Richardson  case  over  again.  A 
brave  spirit  had  been  brutally  blotted  out  by  an  outlaw  who 
relied  confidently  on  the  usual  exoneration.  With  an  excla 
mation  Keith  darted  into  the  engine  house  to  where  hung  the 
rope  ready  for  an  alarm.  An  instant  later  the  heavy  booming 
of  the  MonumentaPs  bell  smote  the  air. 


LIII 

HAVING  given  this  alarm,  Keith,  Johnny  at  his  elbow, 
started  toward  the  centre  of  disturbance.  From  it  arose  a 
dull,  menacing  roar,  like  the  sound  of  breakers  on  a  rocky 
coast.  Many  people,  with  much  excitement,  shouting,  and  vi 
tuperation,  were  converging  toward  the  common  centre.  As 
this  was  approached,  it  became  more  difficult,  at  last  impossible, 
to  proceed.  The  streets  were  packed,  jammed.  All  sorts  of 
rumours  were  abroad — King  was  dead— King  was  only  slightly 
hurt — Casey  was  not  in  jail  at  all — Casey  had  escaped  down  the 
Peninsula — the  United  States  warships  had  anchored  off  the  foot 
of  Market  Street  and  were  preparing  to  bombard  the  city.  There 
was  much  rushing  to  and  fro  without  cause.  And  over  all  the 
roar  could  be  distinguished  occasionally  single  cries,  as  one 
may  catch  fragments  of  conversation  in  a  crowded  room,  and  all 
of  these  were  sinister:  "Hang  him!"  "Where  is  he?  "  "Run  him 
up  on  a  lamp  post! "  "  Bring  him  out! "  "He'll  get  away  if  left  to 
the  officers!"  And  over  all  the  cries,  the  shouts,  the  curses,  the 
noise  of  shuffling  feet,  the  very  sound  of  heavy  breathing  that 
the  numbers  of  the  mob  magnified  to  a  muffled,  formidable 
undernote,  pealed  louder  and  louder  the  Monumental  bell, 
which  now  Bert  Taylor — or  some  one  else — was  ringing  like 
mad. 

Keith's  eyes  had  become  grim  and  inscrutable,  and  his  mouth 
had  settled  into  a  hard,  straight  line.  Johnny's  interest  had  at 
first  centred  in  the  mob,  but  after  a  few  curious  glances  at  his 
companion  he  transferred  it  entirely  to  him.  Johnny  Fairfax 
was  a  judge  of  men  and  of  crises;  and  now  he  was  invaded  with  a 
great  curiosity  to  see  how  the  one  and  the  other  were  here  to  work 
out.  With  a  determination  that  would  not  be  gainsaid,  Keith 

276 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  277 

thrust  himself  through  the  crowd  until  he  had  gained  an  ele 
vated  coping.  Here  he  stood  watching.  Johnny,  after  a  glance 
at  his  face,  joined  him. 

Suddenly  in  the  entrance  of  Dunbar  Alley,  next  the  city  jail, 
a  compact  group  of  men  with  drawn  pistols  appeared.  They 
made  their  way  rapidly  to  a  carriage  standing  near,  jumped  in, 
and  the  driver  whipped  up  his  horses.  With  a  yell  of  rage  the 
crowd  charged  down,  but  recoiled  instinctively  before  the 
presented  pistols.  The  horses  reared  and  plunged,  and  before 
anybody  had  gathered  his  wits  sufficiently  to  seize  the  bridles, 
the  whole  equipage  had  disappeared  around  the  corner  of 
Kearney  Street. 

"I  must  say  that  was  well  done,"  said  Johnny. 

"North  and  Charles  Duane,  with  Casey,  inside,"  commented 
Keith,  as  dispassionately  as  though  reading  from  a  catalogue. 
"Billy  Mulligan  and  his  deputies  outside.  That  is  to  be  re 
membered." 

A  great  mob  had  surged  after  the  disappearing  vehicle,  but 
at  least  fifty  yards  in  the  rear.  The  remainder  were  following  at  a 
more  leisurely  pace.  Almost  immediately  the  street  was  empty. 
Keith  climbed  slowly  down  from  his  coping. 

"What  do  you  intend  doing? "  asked  Johnny  curiously. 

"Nothing  yet." 

"But  they're  getting  him  away ! " 

"No,"  said  Keith,  out  of  his  local  knowledge.  "They're 
merely  taking  him  to  the  county  jail;  it's  stronger." 

They  followed  the  crowd  to  the  wide  open  space  below  the 
county  jail.  The  latter  was  at  that  period  a  solidly  built  one- 
story  building  situated  atop  a  low  bluff.  Below  it  the  marshal 
had  drawn  up  his  officers.  They  stood  coolly  at  ease.  The  mob, 
very  excited,  vociferated,  surged  back  and  forth.  North  and 
his  men,  busily  and  coolly,  but  emphatically,  were  warning  them, 
over  and  over  again,  not  to  approach  nearer.  A  single,  con 
certed  rush  would  have  overwhelmed  the  few  defenders;  but  the 
rush  was  not  made.  Nevertheless,  it  could  not  be  doubted  that 
this  time  the  temper  of  the  people  was  very  determined.  The 


278  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

excitement  was  growing  with  every  minute.  Cries  again  took 
coherence. 

"Hang  him!"  "Arrest  the  officers!"  "Good,  that's  it!" 
"Let's  take  the  jail!" 

A  man  burst  through  the  front  ranks,  clambered  up  the  low 
bluff  on  which  stood  the  jail,  turned,  and  attempted  to  harangue 
the  crowd.  He  was  instantly  torn  down  by  the  officers.  He 
fought  like  a  wild  cat,  and  the  crowd,  on  the  hair  trigger  as  it 
was,  howled  and  broke  forward.  But  Marshal  North,  who 
really  handled  the  situation  intelligently,  sharply  commanded  his 
men  to  desist,  and  instantly  to  release  the  orator.  He  knew 
better  than  to  allow  the  matter  to  come  to  an  issue  of  strength. 
Intensely  excited,  the  man  shouldered  his  way  through  the  crowd, 
and,  assisted  by  many  hands,  mounted  the  balcony  of  a  two- 
story  house.  Thence  he  began  to  harangue,  but  so  great  was  the 
confusion  that  he  could  not  be  heard. 

"Who  is  he?"  "Who  is  that  man?"  voices  cried  from  a 
dozen  points. 

George  Frank,  a  hotel  keeper,  possessed  of  a  great  voice, 
shouted  back: 

"That  is  Thomas  King " 

An  officer  seized  Frank  hastily  by  the  collar.  "Stop  or  I'll 
arrest  you! "  he  threatened. 

" — brother  of  James  King  of  William!"  bellowed  Frank,  un 
daunted. 

"Bully  for  you!"  muttered  Johnny  Fairfax,  whose  eyes  were 
shining. 

Keith  was  watching  the  whole  scene  from  beneath  the  brim  of 
his  hat,  his  eyes  sombre  and  expressionless.  Johnny  glanced  at 
him  from  time  to  time,  but  said  nothing. 

From  the  balcony  Thomas  King  continued  to  harangue  the 
crowd.  Little  of  what  he  said  could  be  heard,  but  he  was  at  a 
white  heat  of  excitement,  and  those  nearest  him  were  greatly 
aroused.  An  officer  made  a  movement  to  arrest  him,  but  a 
hasty  message  from  the  sapient  North  restrained  that. 

At  that  moment  a  great  cheer  burst  out  from  the  lower  end  of 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  279 

the  street.  Over  the  heads  of  the  crowd  could  be  distinguished 
the  glint  of  file  after  file  of  bayonets. 

"That's  the  ticket!"  cried  an  enthusiast  near  Keith  and 
Johnny.  "Here  come  the  militia  boys!  Now  we'll  soon  have 
the  jail!" 

The  bayonets  bobbed  steadily  through  the  crowd,  deployed  in 
front  of  the  jail,  and  turned  to  face  the  mob.  A  great  groan 
went  up. 

"Sold! "  cried  the  enthusiast. 

These  were  volunteers  from  the  Law  and  Order  party,  hastily 
armed  from  the  militia  armouries,  and  thrown  in  front  of  the  jail 
for  its  protection. 

Immediately  they  had  taken  position  the  jail  door  opened,  and 
there  appeared  a  rather  short,  carefully  dressed  man,  with  side 
whiskers,  carrying  his  hat  in  his  hand.  He  stood  for  a  moment, 
appealing  for  attention,  one  arm  upraised.  Little  by  little  the 
noise  died  down. 

"Who  is  that?"  inquired  Johnny. 

He  received  no  reply  from  Keith,  but  the  enthusiast  informed 
him: 

"That's  our  beloved  mayor — Van  Ness,"  said  he. 

When  quiet  had  at  length  been  restored,  Van  Ness  addressed 
them: 

"You  are  here  creating  an  excitement,"  he  said,  "which  may 
lead  to  occurrences  this  night  which  will  require  years  towipeout. 
You  are  now  labouring  under  great  excitement,  and  I  advise  you 
quietly  to  disperse.  I  assure  you  the  prisoner  is  safe.  Let  the 
law  have  its  course  and  justice  will  be  done." 

Up  to  this  point  Van  Ness  had  been  listened  to  with  respect, 
but  at  the  last  word  he  received  such  a  chorus  of  jeers  and  cat 
calls  that  he  retired  hastily. 

"How  about  Richardson?  "  they  demanded  of  him.  "  Where's 
the  law  in  Cora's  case? "  "To  hell  with  such  justice ! " 

"  Not  the  popular  orator,"  observed  Johnny  Fairfax. 

More  soldiers  came,  and  then  more,  at  short  intervals,  until 
the  square  was  filled  with  shining  bayonets.  Johnny  was 


280  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

frankly  disgusted.  As  a  man  of  action  he  too  well  understood 
that  this  particular  crisis  was  practically  over.  From  this  mob 
the  jail  was  safe. 

"They  lost  their  chance  talking/'  he  said.  "They  ought  to 
have  rushed  the  jail  first  pop.  Now  the  whole  thing  will  fizzle 
out  slowly.  Let's  go  get  supper." 

Without  reply  Keith  descended  from  his  perch.  They  hunted 
some  time  for  a  restaurant.  All  were  dosed  for  the  sufficient 
reason  that  their  staffs  were  on  the  streets.  Finally  they  dis 
covered  a  Chinese  chop  house  prepared  to  serve  them,  and  here 
they  ate.  Johnny  was  voluble  hi  his  scorn  for  the  manner  in 
which  a  golden  opportunity  had  been  allowed  to  slip  by.  Keith 
was  very  taciturn. 

"Let's  get  out  of  here,"  he  said  abruptly  at  last.  "Let's  get 
some  news." 

They  learned  that  King  was  still  alive,  though  badly  wounded 
in  the  left  breast;  that  he  could  not  be  moved;  that  he  was  at 
tended  by  Dr.  Beverly  Cole  and  a  half  score  of  the  best  surgeons 
of  the  city;  that  a  mass  meeting  had  been  called  at  the  Plaza. 
Indeed,  there  could  be  no  doubt  that  the  centre  of  excitement  had 
been  shifted  to  the  Plaza.  Men  by  thousands,  all  armed,  were 
marching  hi  that  direction.  Johnny  and  Keith  found  the  square 
jammed,  but  the  latter  led  the  way  by  devious  alleys  to  the  rear 
of  the  Monumental  headquarters,  and  so  out  to  a  little  second- 
story  balcony. 

Below  them  the  faces  of  the  packed  mass  of  humanity  showed 
white  in  the  dim  light  from  the  street  lamps  and  the  buildings. 
Arms  gleamed.  Every  roof  top,  every  window,  every  balcony 
was  crowded.  From  the  latter  vehement  orators  held  forth.  All 
wanted  to  talk  at  once.  Some  of  these  people  were,  as  our 
chronicler  of  the  time  quaintly  expresses  it,  "considerably 
tight."  Keith  looked  them  all  over  with  an  appraising  eye, 
listening  at  the  same  time  to  incendiary  speeches  advising  the 
battering  down  of  the  jail  and  the  hanging  of  all  its  inmates. 
Occasionally  one  of  the  cooler  headed  would  get  in  a  few  words, 
but  invariably  was  interrupted  by  some  well-meaning  hot  head. 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  281 

There  seemed  to  be  a  great  diversity  of  opinion  both  among  the 
people  on  the  balcony  and  those  below.  Keith  listened  atten 
tively  for  a  time,  then,  with  the  abruptness  that  had  character 
ized  his  movements  and  decisions  since  the  moment  he  had  heard 
the  news  of  King's  assassination,  he  turned  away. 

"Let's  go,"  he  said  briefly. 

"Oh,  hold  on!"  cried  Johnny,  aghast  "It's  just  the  shank  of 
the  evening!  We'll  miss  all  the  fun." 

"There'll  be  nothing  done,"  said  Keith  with  decision. 

"I'm  more  hi  hopes,"  persisted  Johnny.  "I'll  bet  there  are 
ten  thousand  men  here,  armed  and  angry,  and  getting  angrier 
every  minute.  They  could  fairly  eat  up  that  lot  at  the  jail." 

"They  won't,"  said  Keith. 

"Ill  bet  one  good  man  could  turn  them  loose  hi  a  minute." 

Suddenly  Keith's  dour  taciturnity  broke.  "You're  perfectly 
right,"  he  conceded;  "but  the  point  is  that  good  men  won't  lead 
a  rabble.  If  we're  to  have  good  leaders  we  must  have  something 
for  them  to  lead.  If  we're  to  cure  these  conditions,  we  must  do 
things  in  due  order.  This  cannot  be  remedied  by  mere  excite 
ment  nor  by  deeds  done  under  excitement.  I  have  not  yet  seen 
anything  that  promises  either  satisfaction  or  reform." 

"What  do  you  propose  doing,  then?"  asked  Johnny,  his  in 
tuitions  again  satisfying  him  that  here  was  the  man  to  tie  to. 

"Walk  about,"  replied  Keith. 

They  walked  about  In  the  course  of  the  evening  they  looked 
in  on  a  dozen  meetings  of  which  they  had  news — in  the  Pioneer 
Club,  in  rooms  over  the  old  Bella  Union,  in  a  saloon  off  Mont 
gomery  Street,  at  the  offices  of  various  merchants.  Keith  looked 
carefully  over  the  personnel  of  each  of  these  various  meetings, 
listened  a  minute  or  so,  and  went  out.  By  some  of  the  men  so 
gathered  Johnny  was  quite  impressed,  but  Keith  shook  his  head. 

"These  meetings  are  being  held  by  clubs  or  cliques,"  he 
explained  his  disbelief  in  them.  "They  influence  a  certain 
following,  but  not  a  general  following.  This  must  be  a 
general  movement  or  none  at  all.  The  right  people  haven't 
taken  hold." 


282  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

About  midnight  he  unexpectedly  announced  that  he  was 
going  home  and  to  bed.  Johnny  was  frankly  scandalized. 

"I  think  nothing  will  happen  in  this  matter,"  said  Keith. 
"  The  time  for  mob  violence  has  passed.  If  an  attack  were  now  to 
be  made,  I  should  consider  it  unfortunate,  and  should  not  want  to 
be  mixed  up  hi  it,  anyway.  A  mob  attack  is  nothing  but  a  mani 
festation  of  sheer  lawlessness." 

"And  you're  keen  for  the  dear  law,  of  course,"  said  Johnny 
with  sarcasm. 

"There  is  a  difference  between  mere  laws  and  the  law.  There 
is  a  time — either  here  or  coming  soon — when  laws  may  be  broken 
that  justice  may  be  done.  But  no  popular  movement  will 
succeed  unless  it  has  behind  it  the  solemn  essential  human  law. 
Good-night." 


LIV 

ON  THIS  same  afternoon  of  King's  assassination  Nan 
Keith  was  expecting  Sansome  in  for  tea.  Afternoon  tea 
was  then  an  exotic  institution,  practically  unknown  in 
California  society.  Ben  Sansome  was  about  the  only  man  of 
Nan's  acquaintance  who  took  it  as  a  matter  of  course,  without 
either  awkwardness,  embarrassment,  or  ill-timed  jest.  The  day 
had  been  fine,  and  several  times  she  had  regretted  her  promise  as 
she  cast  an  eye  at  the  glow  over  the  gilt-edged  tops  of  the  western 
hills.  The  sunset  through  the  Golden  Gate  must  to-day  be  very 
fine. 

And  Ben  Sansome  had  failed  her!  She  had  made  certain 
little  especial  preparations — picked  flowers,  herself  cut  the 
sandwiches  thin,  put  on  her  most  becoming  tea  gown.  As  time 
passed  she  became  more  and  more  annoyed.  She  was  dis 
appointed  not  so  much  at  the  absence  of  Ben  Sansome  as  a 
person  as  at  the  waste  of  her  efforts. 

But  at  six  o'clock,  when  she  had  given  him  up,  and  was  about 
to  change  from  her  tea  gown,  he  came  in,  full  of  apologies,  very 
flustered,  and  bursting  with  news. 

"King  was  shot  on  the  street  by  Casey,"  he  told  her,  trying 
not  unsuccessfully  for  his  habitual  d'etached  manner.  "I 
stopped  to  get  the  news  for  you.  King  is  not  dead,  but  probably 
fatally  wounded.  Casey  is  in  jail.  There  is  a  great  public  ex 
citement — a  mob  is  forming.  I've  been  expecting  something  of 
the  sort.  King  has  been  pretty  free  with  his  comments." 

At  seven  o'clock  Nan  jumped  to  her  feet  in  a  sudden  panic. 

"Why,  I  wonder  where  Milton  is!"  she  cried.  "He's  never 
been  so  late  as  this  before!" 

"He's  probably  stayed  downtown  to  follow  the  course  of  the 

283 


284  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

excitement.  Naturally  he  would.  He  may  not  get  home  to 
supper  at  all." 

Wing  Sam  announced  supper.  He  was  unheeded.  Even 
Gringo,  his  ears  cocked,  watched  the  door,  getting  up  uneasily, 
whining,  sniffing  inquiringly,  and  lying  down  again.  At  half- 
past  seven  Sansome  firmly  intervened. 

"You're  going  to  make  yourself  ill,"  he  insisted,  "if  you  don't 
eat  something.  I  am  hungry,  anyway;  and  I'm  not  going  to 
leave  you  until  he  comes  back." 

"Oh,  you  must  be  starved!  How  thoughtless  I  am!"  she 
cried. 

Sansome,  who,  it  must  be  confessed,  had  been  somewhat 
chagrined  at  the  apparent  intensity  of  her  anxiety,  was,  within 
the  next  two  hours,  considerably  reassured.  Nan  never  did 
things  halfway.  For  the  moment  she  had  forgotten  her  guest. 
He  was  certainly  very  kind,  very  thoughtful — as  always — to  stay 
here  with  her.  She  must  not  oppress  his  spirits.  But  the 
inner  tension  was  terrible.  She  felt  that  shortly  something 
must  snap.  And  after  supper,  when  they  had  returned  to  the 
drawing-room,  a  queer,  low,  growling,  distant  roar,  borne  on  a 
chance  shift  of  wind,  broke  one  of  her  sentences  in  the  middle. 

"What's  that?"  she  cried,  but  before  Sansome  had  replied,  she 
knew  what  it  was,  the  roar  of  the  mob!  And  Milton  was  some 
where  there! 

Suddenly  a  wave  of  reaction  swept  her,  of  anger.  Why  was  he 
there?  Why  wasn't  he  at  home?  Why  had  he  made  no  attempt 
to  relieve  her  cruel  anxiety?  A  messenger — it  would  have  been 
very  simple!  And  Ben  Sansome  was  so  kind — as  always.  She 
turned  to  him  with  a  new  decision. 

"I  know  you  are  dying  to  go  see  what  is  going  on,"  she  said. 
"You  simply  must  not  stay  here  any  longer  on  my  account.  I 
insist!  Indeed,  I  think  I'll  go  to  bed."  But  Ben  Sansome, 
his  manner  becoming  almost  caressingly  protective,  would  not 
listen. 

" It  isn't  safe  to  leave  you  alone,"  he  told  her.  "All  the  worst 
elements  of  the  city  will  be  out.  No  woman  should  be  left 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  285 

alone  in  times  of  such  danger.  I  should  feel  most  uneasy  at 
leaving  you  before  your  husband  comes  in." 

His  words  were  correct  enough,  but  he  managed  to  convey 
his  opinion  that  he  was  only  fulfilling  what  should  have  been 
Keith's  first  and  manifest  duty.  She  made  no  reply.  The 
conversation  languished  and  died.  They  sat  in  the  lamplight 
opposite  each  other,  occasionally  exchanging  a  word  or  so. 
Sansome  was  content  and  enjoying  himself.  He  conceived  that 
the  stars  were  fighting  for  him,  and  he  was  enjoying  the  hour. 
Nan,  a  prey  alternately  to  almost  uncontrollable  fits  of  anxiety 
and  flaming  resentment,  could  hardly  sit  still. 

About  midnight  Gringo  pricked  up  his  ears  and  barked  sharply. 
A  moment  later  Keith  came  in. 

He  was  evidently  dead  tired  and  wholly  preoccupied.  He 
hung  up  his  hat  absently.  Nan  had  sprung  to  her  feet. 

"Oh,  how  could  you!"  she  cried,  the  pent  exasperation  in  her 
voice.  "I've  been  so  anxious!  I  didn't  know  what  might  have 
happened!" 

"I'm  all  right,"  replied  Keith  briefly.  "Sorry  you  were  wor 
ried.  No  chance  to  send  you  word." 

His  apparent  indifference  added  fuel  to  Nan's  irritation. 

"If  it  hadn't  been  for  Ben,  I  should  have  been  stark,  staring 
crazy,  here  all  alone!" 

Keith  for  the  first  time  appeared  to  notice  Sansome's  presence. 
He  nodded  at  him  wearily. 

"Mighty  good  of  you,"  said  he.     "I  appreciate  it." 

"I  thought  some  man  ought  to  be  hi  the  house  at  a  time  of 
such  public  excitement,"  rejoined  Sansome  significantly. 

Keith  failed  to  catch,  or  elected  not  to  notice,  the  implication. 
Nan's  cheeks  turned  red. 

Without  further  remark  Keith  walked  across  to  lock  the 
window;  returning,  he  extinguished  a  small  lamp  on  the  side 
table.  He  was  tired  out,  knew  he  must  be  up  early,  and  wanted 
above  everything  to  get  to  bed.  The  hint  was  sufficiently  ob 
vious.  Sansome  rose.  Nan's  flush  deepened  with  mortifica 
tion. 


286  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

"Well,  I'll  just  run  along,"  said  Sansome  cheerfully.  He 
did  not  ask  for  news  of  the  evening,  nor  did  Keith  volunteer  it. 
Keith  nodded  at  him  briefly  and  indifferently.  He  did  not 
mean  to  be  rude,  but  his  wearied  mind  was  filled  to  the  exclusion 
of  everything  else  with  the  significance  of  this  day. 

Nan,  feeling  that  she  must  make  amends,  followed  Sansome 
into  the  hall.  Her  anxiety  for  Keith's  safety  relieved,  her 
whole  reaction  was  indignantly  toward  Sansome. 

"I'm  sorry  to  have  you  go,"  she  said,  with  a  feeling  that  other 
circumstances  could  not  have  called  out.  "I  don't  know  what 
I'd  have  done  without  you!" 

Sansome's  sensitive  intuitions  thrilled  to  the  feeling. 

"Your  husband  is  here  to  take  care  of  you — now,"  he  mur 
mured.  "I  must  be  off."  He  took  her  hand,  and  bent  over 
her,  gazing  into  her  eyes  with  the  concentration  of  a  professional 
hypnotist.  "  Good-night,"  he  said,  with  a  world  of  unexpressed 
meaning.  "Try  to  get  some  sleep — Nan."  He  said  her  name 
in  a  lower  tone,  almost  lingeringly,  then  turned  abruptly  and 
went  out. 

Nan  stood  looking  for  a  moment  at  the  closed  door.  The 
effect  of  his  personality  was  on  her  spirit,  the  mantle  of  his  care 
for  her,  his  consideration  for  her  every  mood,  wrapped  her  about 
gratefully. 

She  found  the  lights  all  out,  and  Keith  already  half  undressed. 

"I  must  say,  Milton,"  she  said,  "you  might  have  been  a 
little  less  rude  to  Mr.  Sansome.  It  would  have  only  been  decent 
after  he  had  sat  up  here  until  all  hours." 

Keith,  whose  wide  eyes  would  have  showed  him  to  be  wholly 
preoccupied  with  some  inner  vision  or  problem,  answered  im 
patiently  from  the  surface  of  his  mind: 

"What  in  the  world  did  I  do  to  Sansome?" 

"You  didn't  do  anything,  that's  the  trouble.  Do  you  realize 
he  waited  here  over  six  hours  for  you  to  come  in? " 

"Oh,  I  guess  he'll  puU  through,"  said  Keith  a  little  con 
temptuously. 

Nan  became  indignant. 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  287 

"At  least,"  she  retorted,  "y°u  ought  to  be  grateful  that  he 
stayed  to  protect  the  place!" 

"The  place  was  in  no  danger,"  said  Keith,  yawning. 

She  checked  herself,  and  made  a  fresh  start. 

"What's  it  all  about?  What's  happened?  Where  have  you 
been?"  she  asked. 

Keith  roused  himself  with  an  effort. 

"I've  been  a  little  of  everywhere.  Lord,  I'm  tired!  There's 
a  mob  about  trying  to  get  up  nerve  to  hang  Casey.  I  suppose 
you've  heard  that  Casey  shot  King  this  afternoon?" 

"Yes,  I  heard  that." 

"Well,  when  I  saw  nothing  was  going  to  happen,  I  came 
.home,  though  I'm  not  sure  the  trouble  is  over." 

Having  said  this,  Keith  fell  gratefully  to  his  pillow.  Nan 
was  nervous,  wide-awake,  curious.  She  asked  a  number  of 
questions.  Keith  answered  with  extreme  brevity.  He  was 
temporarily  exhausted.  Shortly  he  fell  asleep  between  two 
sentences. 


LV 

THE  following  morning  Keith  woke  early,  slipped  to  the 
kitchen  where  he  was   fed   by   Wing   Sam,  and    was 
downtown  before  Nan,  who  had  not  so  promptly  fallen 
asleep,  had  yet  stirred.     Even  at  that  hour  the  streets  were 
crowded.    Many — and  the  majority  of  these  were  "consider 
ably  tight,"  or  otherwise  looking  the  worse  for  wear — had  been 
up  all  night,  unable  to  tear  themselves  away  from  the  fasci 
nating  centres  of  excitement.     The  majority,  however,  had, 
like  Keith,  snatched  some  repose,  and  now  were  out  eager  to 
discover  what  a  new  day  might  bring  forth. 

The  morning  newspapers  had  been  issued.  Each  man  held 
a  copy  of  one  of  them  open  at  the  editorial  column,  and  others 
tucked  away  under  his  arm.  Never  had  there  been  such  a  cir 
culation;  and  in  the  case  of  the  Herald  never  would  so  many  be 
sold  again.  For  that  ill-starred  sheet,  mistaking  utterly  the 
times,  held  boldly  along  the  way  of  its  sympathies.  It  spoke 
of  the  assassination  as  an  "affray";  held  forth  violently  against 
the  mob  spirit  of  the  evening  before;  and  stated  vehemently  its 
opinion  that  now  that  "Justice  is  regularly  administered" 
there  was  no  excuse  for  even  the  threat  of  public  violence.  If 
there  had  been  any  doubt  as  to  the  depth  to  which  public 
opinion  was  at  last  stirred,  the  reception  of  the  Herald's  edito 
rial  would  have  settled  it.  Actually,  for  the  moment,  indignation 
seemed  to  run  more  strongly  against  that  sheet  than  against 
Casey  himself. 

Keith  glanced  over  this  editorial  with  a  half  smile,  tossed  the 
paper  in  the  gutter,  and  opened  the  Alia  for  news.  King,  still 
living,  had  been  removed  from  the  office  of  the  Express  Company 
to  a  room  in  the  Montgomery  Block.  There,  attended  by  his 

288 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  289 

wife,  Dr.  Beverly  Cole,  and  a  whole  corps  of  volunteer  physicians, 
he  was  making  a  fight  for  life.  The  bullet  had  penetrated  his 
left  breast.  That  was  all  that  was  to  be  reported  at  present. 
Keith  glanced  at  the  third  page.  His  eye  was  caught  by  this 
notice: 

THE  VIGILANCE  COMMITTEE 

The  members  of  the  Vigilance  Committee  in  good  standing 
will  please  meet  at  No.  105^  Sacramento  Street,  this  day, 
Thursday,  i5th  instant,  at  nine  o'clock  A.  M. 

By  order  of  the 

COMMITTEE  OF  THIRTEEN. 

While  he  was  still  gazing  thoughtfully  at  this  Johnny  Fairfax, 
fresh  as  the  morning,  appeared  at  his  elbow. 

"  Hello,  wise  man,"  he  greeted  him  cheerily.  "  You  were  a  good 
prophet — and  you  got  some  sleep.  I  hung  around  all  night,  but 
nothing  new  was  done." 

"Look  here,"  said  Keith,  placing  his  finger  on  the  notice,  "do 
you  suppose  this  genuine?" 

Johnny  read  the  notice. 

"Couldn't  say." 

"Because  if  this  is  actually  the  old  Committee  of  '51,  it  means 
business." 

"There's  one  way  to  find  out." 

"How's  that?" 

"Go  and  see,"  advised  Johnny. 

Number  105^  Sacramento  Street  proved  to  be  a  big  three- 
storied  barnlike  structure  that  had  been  built  by  a  short-lived 
political  party  called  the  Know  Nothings.  Already  the  hall 
was  packed  to  its  full  capacity,  the  entrance  ways  jammed,  and 
a  big  crowd  had  gathered  in  the  streets. 

"Fine  chance  we  have  here!"  observed  Johnny  ruefully. 

They  stood  well  free  of  the  press  for  a  few  moments,  watching. 
More  men  were  coming  from  all  directions.  But  Johnny  was 
resourceful,  and  likewise  restless. 


29o  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

"Let's  prowl  around  a  little,"  he  suggested  to  his  companion. 

They  prowled  to  such  good  purpose  that  they  discovered,  at 
the  rear  of  the  building,  opening  into  a  blind  alley,  a  narrow 
wooden  stairway.  It  was  unguarded  and  untenanted. 

"Here  we  are,"  pronounced  Johnny. 

They  ascended  it,  and  immediately  found  themselves  in  a 
small  room  back  of  the  stage  or  speaker's  platform.  It  con 
tained  about  a  score  of  men.  Their  aspect  was  earnest,  serious, 
grave.  Although  there  was  a  sufficiency  of  chairs,  they  were  all 
afoot,  gathered  in  a  loose  group,  in  whose  centre  stood  William 
Coleman,  his  massive  shoulders  squared,  his  large  bony  hands 
clenched  at  his  side,  his  florid  complexion  even  more  flushed 
than  usual,  his  steady  eye  travelling  slowly  from  one  face  to  an 
other.  Again  the  strange  contradictions  in  his  appearance 
struck  Keith  with  the  impact  of  a  distinct  shock — the  low 
smoothed  hair,  the  sweeping  blue-black  moustache,  the  vivid 
colour,  and  high  cheek  bones  of  the  typical  gambler — the  clear 
eye,  firm  mouth,  incisive,  deliberate  speech,  the  emanation 
of  personality  that  inspired  confidence.  Next  him,  talking 
earnestly,  stood  Clancey  Dempster,  a  small  man,  mild  of  manner, 
blue  eyed,  with  light,  smooth  hair,  the  last  man  in  the  room  one 
would  have  picked  for  great  firmness  and  courage,  yet  destined 
to  play  one  of  the  leading  roles  in  this  crisis.  The  gigantic 
merchant,  Truett,  towered  above  him,  he  who  had  calmly  held 
two  fighting  teamsters  apart  by  their  collars;  and  homely,  stub 
born,  honest  Farwell,  direct,  uncompromising,  inspired  with 
tremendous  single-minded  earnestness,  but  tender  as  a  girl  to 
any  under  dog;  and  James -Dows,  rough  and  ready,  humorous, 
blasphemous,  absolutely  direct,  endowed  with  "horse  sense," 
eccentric,  but  of  fundamentally  good  judgment;  Hossfros  of  '51; 
Dr.  Beverly  Cole,  high  spirited,  distinguished  looking,  courtly; 
the  excitable,  active,  nervous,  talkative,  but  staunch  Tom 
Smiley;  Isaac  Blucome  whose  signature  as  "33,  Secretary"  was  to 
become  terrible;  fiery  little  George  Ward,  willing— but  unable — 
to  whip  his  weight  in  wild  cats.  As  Keith  recognized  these  men, 
and  others  of  their  stamp,  he  nodded  his  head  contentedly. 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  291 

Johnny  Fairfax  must  have  caught  the  same  impression,  for  he 
leaned  across  to  whisper  to  Keith,  his  eyes  shining: 

"We've  hit  it!" 

Their  entrance  had  passed  unnoticed  in  the  absorption  of 
discussion.  Coleman  was  speaking,  evidently  in  final  decision. 

"It  is  a  serious  business,"  said  he.  "It  is  no  child's  play.  It 
may  prove  very  serious.  We  may  get  through  quickly,  so  safely, 
or  we  may  so  involve  ourselves  as  never  to  get  through." 

"The  issue  is  not  of  choice,  but  of  expediency,"  urged  Demp 
ster.  "Shall  we  have  vigilance  with  order  or  a  mob  with 
anarchy?  " 

Coleman  pondered  a  moment,  then  threw  up  his  head. 

"On  two  conditions  I  will  accept  the  responsibility — absolute 
obedience,  absolute  secrecy." 

Without  waiting  for  a  reply  to  this  he  threw  open  a  door,  and 
followed  by  the  others,  stepped  out  on  the  platform.  A  roar 
greeted  their  appearance.  Johnny  and  Keith,  remaining  mod 
estly  in  the  background,  lingered  near  the  open  door. 

The  hall  was  filled  to  its  utmost  capacity.  Every  inch  of 
floor  space  was  occupied,  and  men  perched  on  sills,  clung  to 
beams.  Coleman  raised  his  hand  and  obtained  an  immediate 
dead  silence. 

"In  view  of  the  miscarriage  of  justice  in  the  courts,"  he  an 
nounced  briefly,  "it  has  been  thought  expedient  to  revive  the 
Vigilance  Committee.  An  Executive  Council  was  chosen  by 
a  representative  of  the  whole  body.  I  have  been  asked  to 
take  charge.  I  will  do  so,  but  must  stipulate  that  I  am  to  be 
free  to  choose  the  first  council  myself.  Is  that  agreed?" 

A  roar  of  assent  answered  him. 

'"Very  well,  gentlemen.     I  shall  request  you   to  vacate  the 
hall.     In  a  short  time  the  books  will  be  open  for  enrollment." 

He  turned  and  reentered  the  anteroom  followed  by  the  others. 
In  so  doing  he  came  face  to  face  with  the  intruders. 

"This  is  not  your  place,  gentlemen,"  he  told  them  courte 
ously. 

They  retired  down  the  narrow  back  stairs  and  joined  the 


292  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

huge  throng  that  filled  the  streets,  waiting  patiently  and  quietly, 
its  eyes  fixed  on  the  closed  doors  of  the  hall.  In  a  remarkably 
short  time  these  doors  were  thrown  open.  Those  nearest  surged 
forward.  Inside  the  passage  were  twelve  men,  later  to  be  known 
as  the  Executive  Committee.  These  held  back  the  rush,  ad 
mitting  but  one  man  at  a  time.  The  crowd  immediately  caught 
the  idea.  There  was  absolutely  no  excitement.  Every  man 
was  grimly  in  earnest.  Cries  of  "Order!  Order!  Line  up!" 
came  from  different  parts  of  the  throng.  A  rough  quadruple 
queue  was  formed  extending  down  the  street.  There  was  no 
talk  nor  smiles,  none  of  the  usual  rough  joking.  Each  waited 
his  turn  without  impatience. 

Johnny  Fairfax  and  Keith,  owing  to  the  chance  that  they  had, 
entered  the  crowd  from  the  nearby  alley  and  found  themselves 
close  to  the  head  of  the  line.  As  they  neared  the  entrance,  and 
so  could  hear  what  was  there  going  on,  they  found  that  each 
applicant  was  being  closely  scrutinized  and  interrogated.  The 
great  majority  passed  this  ordeal,  but  several  men  were  perem- 
torily  turned  back  with  a  warning  not  to  try  again. 

Keith's  turn  came.  He  was  conscious  of  the  scrutiny  of  many 
eyes;  he  heard  the  word  "pass"  pronounced  by  some  one  in  the 
background,  and  climbed  the  stairs.  At  the  top  he  was  directed 
to  an  anteroom  at  the  left.  Here  behind  a  table  sat  Coleman, 
Dempster,  and  a  third  man  unknown  to  him.  To  them  he  re 
peated  the  words  of  an  oath  of  secrecy,  and  then  was  passed  into 
another  room  where  Isaac  Bluxome  sat  behind  a  ledger.  In  this 
he  wrote  his  name, 

"Your  number  is  178,"  said  Bluxome  to  him.  "By  that 
number,  and  not  by  your  name,  you  are  henceforth  to  be  known 
here.  Never  use  names,  always  their  numbers,  in  referring  to 
other  members." 

Thence  Keith  was  directed  to  the  main  hall  where  were  those 
already  admitted.  These  were  gathered  in  groups  discussing  the 
situation.  In  a  moment  Johnny  Fairfax  joined  him. 

"179,  I  am,"  said  Johnny.  His  eyes  swept  the  hall.  "Not 
much  mob  spirit  about  this;  it  looks  like  business.," 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  293 

They  hung  around  for  an  hour.  The  hall  slowly  filled. 
Finally,  learning  that  nothing  further  was  to  be  done  until  the 
enrollment  had  finished,  they  wandered  out  again  into  the  street. 
The  unbroken  lines  of  applicants  extended  as  far  down  the  street 
as  the  eye  could  see. 

All  that  day  the  applicants,  orderly  and  grim  with  purpose, 
were  passed  through  in  line.  By  mid-day  it  was  seen  that  the 
Know-Nothing  Hall  was  going  to  be  too  small  for  the  meeting 
that  would  later  take  place.  Therefore,  a  move  was  made  to  the 
Turnverein  Hall.  After  enrolling,  no  man  departed  from  the 
vicinity  for  long.  Short  absences  for  hastily  snatched  meals  were 
followed  by  hurried  returns  lest  something  be  missed.  From 
time  to  time  reports  were  circulated  as  to  the  activities  of  the 
Executive  Committee,  which  had  been  in  continuous  session 
since  its  appointment.  Thus  it  was  said  that  an  Examining 
Committee  had  been  appointed  to  scrutinize  the  applicants;  that 
the  members  of  the  Executive  Committee  had  been  raised  to 
twenty-six,  that  Oscar  Smith  had  been  appointed  chief  of  police. 
The  latter  rumour  was  immediately  verified  by  the  energetic 
activities  of  that  able  citizen.  He,  or  his  messengers,  darted  here 
and  there  searching  for  individuals  wanted  as  doorkeepers,  guards, 
or  police  officers.  His  regulations  also  began  to  be  felt.  By 
evening  only  registered  members  of  the  committee  were  allowed 
on  the  floor  of  the  hall,  even  the  expostulating  reporters  being 
gently  but  firmly  ejected. 

Nobody  manifested  the  least  excitement  or  impatience.  At 
eight  o'clock  Coleman  came  out  of  one  of  the  side  rooms,  and, 
mounting  a  table,  called  for  order. 

"A  military  organization  is  deemed  necessary,"  he  said  crisply. 
"  Numbers  one  to  one  hundred  will  please  assemble  in  the  south 
west  corner  of  the  room;  numbers  one  hundred  and  one  to  two 
hundred  will  take  the  first  window;  numbers  two  hundred  and 
one  to  three  hundred  the  second  window,  and  so  on."  He 
hesitated  and  looked  over  the  assembly.  "Que  les  Fran^ais,  se 
mettent  an  centre,"  he  ended. 

Thjs  command  in  a  foreign  language  was  made  necessary  by 


294  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

the  extraordinary  number  of  Frenchmen  who  had  first  answered 
the  call  of  gold  in  the  El  Dorado  of  '49;  and  then  with  equal 
enthusiasm  responded  to  this  demand  for  essential  justice. 

Coleman  waited  while  the  multitude  shifted  here  and  there, 
When  the  component  parts  had  again  come  to  rest  he  made  his 
next  announcement: 

"Now  each  company  will  elect  its  own  officers,  but  those 
officers  are  subject  to  the  orders  of  the  Executive  Committee." 

Numbers  one  hundred  and  one  to  two  hundred  inclusive,  the 
company  in  which  Keith  and  Johnny  Fairfax  found  themselves, 
were  for  the  most  part  strangers  to  one  another.  They  exchanged 
glances,  hesitating  as  to  how  to  begin.  Then  a  small,  spectacled 
man  spoke  up. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  he,  "we  must  get  organized  as  rapidly  as 
possible.  Mr.  Coleman  is  waiting.  We  need  for  a  leader  a  man 
who  is  experienced  in  active  life.  I  nominate  John  Fairfax  as 
captain  of  this  company." 

Johnny  gasped  and  turned  red. 

"Who's  your  little  friend?"  Keith  whispered. 

"Never  saw  him  before  in  my  life,"  replied  Johnny. 

The  announcement  was  received  with  indecision.  Nobody 
immediately  replied  or  commented  aloud  on  the  nomination,  but 
men  were  asking  each  other  in  undertones.  The  little  spectacled 
man  saw  this,  and  spoke  up  again: 

"Perhaps  I  should  say  that  Mr.  Fairfax  is  better  known  as 
Diamond  Jack." 

Faces  cleared,  heads  nodded.  A  murmur  of  recognition 
replaced  the  puzzled  frowning.  "Good  man,"  "The  express 
rider,"  "Danny  Randall's  man,"  they  told  each  other. 

"I  do  not  know  Mr.  Fairfax,"  the  spectacled  man  was  saying, 
"but  I  saw  his  name  just  before  mine  on  the  register." 

"This  is  Fairfax,"  said  Keith,  thrusting  the  reluctant  Johnny 
forward. 

He  was  elected  to  the  post  by  acclamation. 

"Nominations  for  a  lieutenant?"  suggested  the  spectacled 
man,  but  Keith  interrupted. 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  295 

"If  you  all  have  as  much  confidence  in  Mr.  Fairfax  as  I  have," 
said  he,  "  perhaps  you'll  give  him  free  hand  and  let  him  pick  his 
own  officers." 

This  seemed  a  good  idea,  and  was  instantly  adopted. 

"Well,  I  thank  you,  gentlemen,"  said  Johnny,  "and  we'll  do 
our  best  to  become  efficient.  Report  your  names  and  addresses 
to  this  gentleman  here " 

"Wiley,"  supplied  the  little  man. 

"We  shall  drill  to-morrow  at  eight  sharp.  Bring  whatever 
weapons " 

But  Coleman  was  again  speaking  and  on  this  very  subject: 

"The  committee  have  arranged  with  George  Law,"  he  was 
saying,  "to  supply  or  hire  muskets  to  the  number  of  several 
thousands.  These  weapons  will  be  at  this  hall  to-morrow 
morning  early.  Company  captains  can  then  make  their  requi 
sitions." 

A  murmur  of  inquiry  swept  the  hall.  "  George  Law?  Where 
did  he  get  several  thousand  muskets?"  And  the  counter  current  of 
information  making  its  way  slowly — they  were  only  flintlocks, 
perfectly  efficient  though,  had  bayonets — superseded  govern 
ment  arms— brought  out  some  time  ago  by  Law  to  arm  some 
mysterious  filibustering  expedition  that  had  fizzled. 

In  this  manner,  without  confusion,  an  organization  of  two 
thousand  men  was  formed,  sixteen  military  companies  officered 
and  armed. 

Shortly  after  Coleman  dismissed  the  meeting.  Its  members 
dispersed  to  their  homes.  Absolute  quiet  descended  on  the  city, 
which  slept  under  the  moon. 


LVI 

TO  THE  thoughtful  bystander  all  this  preparation  had 
its  significance  and  its  portent,  which  became  the  stronger 
when  he  contemplated  the  dispositions  of  the  Law  and 
Order  party.  The  latter  had  been  not  less  vigorous,  and  its 
strength  could  not  be  doubted.  The  same  day  that  marked  the 
organization  of  the  Vigilantes  saw  the  regular  police  force  largely 
increased.  In  addition,  the  sheriff  issued  thousands  of  summonses 
to  citizens,  calling  on  them  for  service  on  a  posse.  These  were  in 
due  form  of  the  law.  To  refuse  them  meant  to  put  one's  self  out 
side  the  law.  A  great  many  of  them  were  responded  to,  for  this 
reason  only,  by  men  not  wholly  in  sympathy  with  either  side. 
Once  the  oath  was  administered,  these  new  deputies  were  con 
fronted  by  the  choice  between  perjury  and  service.  To  be  sure 
the  issuance  of  these  summonses  forced  many  of  the  neutral 
minded  into  the  ranks  of  the  Vigilantes.  The  refusal  to  act 
placed  them  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  law;  and  they  felt  that  join 
ing  a  party  pledged  to  what  practically  amounted  to  civil  war 
was  only  a  short  step  farther.  The  various  military  companies 
were  mustered,  reminded  of  their  oaths,  called  upon  solemnly  to 
fulfil  their  sworn  duty,  and  marched  to  various  strategic  points 
about  the  jail  and  elsewhere.  Parenthetically,  their  every  ap 
pearance  on  the  streets  was  well  hissed  by  the  populace.  The 
governor  was  informally  notified  of  a  state  of  insurrection,  and  re 
quested  to  send  in  the  State  militia.  By  evening  all  the  forces  of 
organized  society  were  under  arms.  The  leaders  of  the  Law  and 
Order  party  were  jubilant.  Their  position  appeared  to  be  im 
pregnable.  They  felt  that  back  of  them  was  all  the  weight  of 
constituted  authority,  reaching,  if  need  be,  to  the  Federal 
Government  at  Washington.  Opposed  to  them  was  lawlessness, 

296 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  297 

Lawlessness  had  occasionally  become  dignified  revolution,  to  be 
sure,  but  only  when  a  race  took  its  stand  on  a  great  issue;  never 
when  a  handful  espoused  a  local  quarrel.  Civil  war  it  might  be; 
but  civil  war,  the  wise  politicians  argued,  must  spread  to  become 
effective;  and  how  could  a  civil  war  based  on  the  shooting  of  an 
obscure  editor  in  a  three-year-old  frontier  town  spread  anywhere? 
Especially  such  an  editor  as  James  King  of  William. 

For  King  had  made  many  bitter  enemies.  In  attacking 
individual  members  of  a  class  he  had  often  unreasonably 
antagonized  the  whole  class.  Thus  he  had  justly  castigated  the 
Times  and  other  venal  newspapers;  but  in  so  doing  had  by  his  too 
general  statements  drawn  the  fire  of  every  other  journal  in  town. 
He  had  with  entire  reason  attacked  a  certain  scalawag  of  a 
Roman  Catholic  priest — a  man  the  church  itself  must  soon  have 
taken  in  hand — but  had  somehow  managed  to  offend  all  Roman 
Catholics  in  doing  so;  likewise,  there  could  be  no  question  that 
his  bitter  scorn  for  "the  chivalry"  was  well  justified,  but  the 
manner  of  its  expression  offended  also  the  decent  Southerners. 
And  all  these  people  saw  the  Vigilantes,  not  as  a  protest  against  a 
condition  that  had  become  intolerable,  but  as  the  personal 
champions  of  King.  The  enemies  of  King,  many  of  them  worthy 
citizens,  quite  out  of  sympathy  with  the  present  methods  of 
administering  the  law,  became  the  enemies  of  the  Vigilantes. 

No  wonder  the  Law  and  Order  party  felt  no  uneasiness.  They 
did  not  underestimate  the  determination  of  their  opponents.  It 
was  felt  that  fighting,  severe  fighting,  was  perhaps  inevitable. 
The  Law  and  Order  party  loved  fighting.  They  had  chosen  as 
their  commander  William  Tecumseh  Sherman,  later  to  gain  his 
fame  as  a  great  soldier.  His  greatness  in  a  military  capacity 
seems  to  have  been  exceeded  only  by  his  inability  to  remember 
facts  proved  elsewhere  by  original  historical  documents.  This  is 
the  only  possible  explanation  for  the  hash  of  misstatements 
comprising  those  chapters  in  his  "Memoirs"  dealing  with  this 
time.  In  writing  them  the  worthy  general  evidently  forgot  that 
original  documents  existed,  or  that  statements  concerning  his 
torical  events  can  often  be  checked. 


298  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

And  as  a  final  source  of  satisfaction,  the  Vigilantes  had  placed 
themselves  on  record.  Every  man  could  be  apprehended  and 
made  to  feel  the  weight  of  the  law.  A  mob  is  irresponsible  and 
anonymous.  These  fools  had  written  down  their  names  in 
books! 


LVII 

NOW  a  new  element  was  injected  into  the  situation  in  the 
person  of  the  governor  of  the  State,  one  J.  Neely  John 
son,  a  politician  who  would  long  since  have  been  utterly 
forgotten  had  not  his  unlucky  star  risen  just  at  this  unlucky 
time.  A  more  unfortunate  man  for  a  crisis  it  would  have  been 
difficul  t  to  find.  His  whole  We  had  been  one  of  trimming ;  he  had 
made  his  way  by  trimming;  he  had  gained  the  governor's  chair 
by  yielding  to  the  opinions  of  others.  This  training  comb  hied 
perfectly  with  the  natural  disposition  of  a  chameleon.  He  was, 
or  became,  a  sincere  trimmer,  taking  his  colour  and  his  temporary 
beliefs  from  those  with  whom  he  happened  to  be.  His  judgment 
often  stuck  at  trifles,  and  his  opinions  were  quickly  heated  but  as 
quickly  cooled.  His  private  morals  were  none  of  the  best,  which 
gave  certain  men  an  added  hold. 

On  receipt  of  the  message  sent  by  the  Law  and  Order  party — 
but  not,  be  it  noted,  by  the  proper  authorities — requesting 
the  State  militia,  Governor  Johnson  came  down  post-haste 
from  Sacramento.  Immediately  on  arriving  in  the  city  he 
sent  word  to  Coleman  requesting  an  interview.  Coleman  at 
once  followed  the  messenger  to  the  Continental  Hotel.  He  was 
shown  to  a  private  room  where  he  found  Johnson  pacing  up  and 
down  alone.  Coleman  bowed  gravely  in  response  to  the  gov 
ernor's  airy  greeting.  Johnson  sat  down,  offered  cigars,  made 
every  effort  to  appear  amiable  and  conciliatory. 

"This  is  bad;  this  is  bad,  Coleman,"  he  began  the  interview. 
"What  is  it  you  want?" 

"Peace,"  replied  Coleman,  "and  if  possible  without  a 
struggle." 

"That's  all  very  well,"  said  Johnson  pettishly,  "to  talk  about 

299 


300  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

peace  with  an  army  of  insurrection  newly  raised.  But  what  is  it 
you  actually  wish  to  accomplish?  " 

Coleman  looked  at  him  steadily,  then  leaned  forward. 

"The  law  is  crippled,"  he  told  the  governor  in  measured  tones. 
"We  want  merely  to  accomplish  what  the  crippled  law  should  do 
but  cannot.  This  done,  we  will  gladly  retire.  Now,  Governor, 
you  have  been  asked  by  the  mayor,  and  certain  others,  to  bring 
out  the  militia  and  crush  this  movement.  I  assure  you,  it  cannot 
be  done;  and  if  you  attempt  it,  it  will  cause  you  and  us 
great  trouble.  Do  as  Governor  McDougall  did  in  '51.  See  in 
this  movement  what  he  saw  in  that:  a  local  movement  for  a  local 
reform,  in  which  the  State  is  not  concerned.  We  are  not  a  mob; 
we  demand  no  overthrow  of  institutions.  We  ask  not  a  single, 
court  to  adjourn;  we  ask  not  a  single  officer  to  vacate  his  position; 
we  demand  only  the  enforcement  of  the  law — which,  after  all,  we 
have  made!"  He  extended  his  strong  fist  and  laid  it  on  the 
table.  "If  you  deem  it  the  conscientious  duty  of  your  office  to 
discountenance  these  proceedings — as  perhaps  you  well  may — 
then  let  your  opposition  be  in  appearance  only.  In  your  heart 
you  must  know  the  necessity  of  this  measure;  you  know  the 
standing  of  the  men  managing  it  You  know  that  this  is  no  mob, 
no  distempered  faction.  It  is  San  Francisco  herself  who  speaks! 
Let  California  stand  aside;  let  her  leave  us  to  our  shame  and 
sorrow;  for,  as  God  lives,  we  will  cleanse  this  city  of  her  corrup 
tion  or  perish  with  her !  So  we  have  sworn ! " 

This  long  speech,  delivered  with  the  solemnity  of  absolute  con 
viction,  profoundly  impressed  Johnson's  volatile  nature. 

"But,"  he  objected  uncertainly,  "Coleman,  you  must  under 
stand!  This  is  against  the  law— and  I  have  sworn  to  uphold 
the  law!" 

"That  is  a  matter  for  your  own  conscience,"  rejoined  Cole 
man  a  little  impatiently.  "Issue  your  proclamation,  if  you 
feel  that  the  dignity  of  the  law  may  be  best  maintained  by 
frowning  on  justice — but  confine  yourself  to  that!  Leave  us 
alone  in  our  righteous  purposes!" 

Johnson,  his  chameleon  soul  aglow  with  enthusiasm,  leaped 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  301 

to  his  feet  and  seized  Coleman's  two  hands.  In  his  eye  stood  a 
tear. 

"Sir,"  he  cried,  "go  on  with  your  work!  Let  it  be  done  as 
speedily  as  possible!  You  have  my  best  wishes!" 

Coleman  did  not  relax  his  formal  gravity. 

"I  am  glad  you  feel  that  way,  and  that  we  understand  each 
other,"  he  contented  himself  with  saying. 

The  heroic  moment  past,  Johnson's  restless  mind  began  to 
glance  among  anxieties. 

"But  hasten  the  undertaking  as  much  as  you  can,"  he  begged. 
"The  opposition  is  stronger  than  you  suppose.  The  pressure 
on  me  is  going  to  be  terrible.  What  about  the  prisoners  in  the 
jail?"  asked  Johnson  anxiously.  "What  is  your  immediate 
plan?" 

"That  is  in  the  hands  of  the  committee,"  evaded  Coleman. 

He  left  the  governor,  again  pacing  up  and  down. 


LVIII 

COLEMAN  returned  at  once  to  the  hall  to  resume  his  in 
terrupted  labours  with  the  committee.  The  results  of  his 
conference  with  the  governor  seemed  very  satisfactory. 

"We  can  now  go  ahead  with  free  minds,"  said  Clancey 
Dempster. 

The  business  was  astonishingly  varied  in  scope.  Charles 
Doane — not  to  be  confused  with  Duane,  the  ex-fire  chief — was 
appointed  military  commander-in-chief ;  Colonel  Johns,  captain 
of  artillery;  Olney  was  given  the  task  of  guarding  the  jail  from 
the  outside  "with  a  force  numerous  enough  to  prevent  escape." 
After  considerable  discussion  Aaron  Burns  was  made  head  of  a 
civilian  committee  to  take  charge  of  all  prisoners.  It  was  moved 
and  carried  that  no  city  or  county  official  should  be  admitted  to 
membership,  a  striking  commentary  on  the  disesteem  in  which 
such  men  were  held.  Permanent  headquarters  were  arranged 
for;  committees  appointed  for  the  solicitation  of  funds.  A 
dozen  other  matters  of  similar  detail  were  taken  up,  intelligently 
discussed,  and  provided  for  with  the  celerity  of  men  trained  in 
crises  of  business  or  life.  At  length  it  was  moved  the  "com 
mittee,  as  a  body,  shall  visit  the  county  jail  at  such  time  as  the 
Executive  Committee  might  direct,  and  take  thence  James  P. 
Casey  and  Charles  Cora,  give  them  a  fair  trial,  and  administer 
such  punishment  as  justice  shall  demand." 

This  was  the  real  business,  for  the  transaction  of  which  all 
these  lesser  businesses  had  been  prepared.  A  slight  pause  fol 
lowed  its  introduction,  as  though  each  member  present  were 
savouring  the  significance  of  the  moment. 

"Are  you  ready  for  the  question?"  asked  Coleman  in  grave 
tones.  "Those  in  favour— 

.  302 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  303 

"Aye,"  came  the  instant  response  from  every  man  present. 

A  messenger  opened  the  door  to  announce  that  Governor 
Johnson  was  in  the  anteroom  requesting  speech  with  Coleman. 
The  latter,  handing  his  gavel  to  Dempster,  immediately  an 
swered  the  summons. 

He  found  Johnson,  accompanied  by  Sherman,  Garrison,  and 
two  strangers,  lounging  in  the  anteroom.  The  governor 
sprawled  in  a  chair,  his  hat  pulled  over  his  eyes,  a  cigar  in  the 
corner  of  his  mouth.  His  companions  arose  and  bowed  gravely 
as  Coleman  entered  the  room,  but  he  remained  seated,  nodding 
at  Coleman  with  an  air  of  cavalier  bravado  that  was  plainly  in 
tended  to  conceal  his  nervousness.  Without  waiting  for  the 
exchange  of  spoken  greetings,  he  burst  out: 

"We  have  come  to  ask  what  you  intend  to  do, "  he  demanded 
truculently  of  Coleman,  as  though  he  had  never  seen  or  talked 
to  him  before. 

Coleman  stared  at  him  for  an  instant,  completely  surprised; 
read  him;  set  his  mouth  grimly. 

"Outrages  are  of  constant  occurrence,"  he  recited  briefly; 
"our  suffrages  are  profaned,  our  fellow-citizens  shot  down  in 
the  street,  our  courts  afford  us  no  redress,  we  will  endure  it  no 
longer." 

"  I  agree  with  you  as  to  the  grievances,"  rejoined  the  governor, 
almost  as  though  reciting  a  learned  lesson;  "but  I  think  the 
courts  are  the  proper  remedy.  The  judges  are  good  men,  and 
there  is  no  necessity  for  the  people  to  turn  themselves  into  a 
mob  and  obstruct  the  execution  of  the  laws." 

A  flush  mounted  Coleman's  cheek. 

"Sir!"  he  cried  indignantly,  "this  is  no  mob!  You  know 
this  is  no  mob!" 

Johnson  looked  at  him  from  between  half-closed  lids,  as 
though  from  a  great  distance. 

7 "The  opposition  is  stronger  than  you  imagine,"  he  said. 
"There  is  danger  to  the  city — great  danger  of  bloodshed — which 
should  be  prevented  if  possible."  He  paused,  focussed  his 
whole  attention  on  Coleman,  and  went  on  with  deliberate 


3o4  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

significance:  "//  may  be  necessary  to  bring  out  all  the  force  at 
my  command.  I  strongly  advise  you  to  leave  the  case  of  Casey 
to  the  courts;  and  I  pledge  myself  to  his  fair  and  speedy  trial." 

Although  realizing  fully  what  a  formidable  element  this  change 
of  front  threw  into  the  situation,  Coleman's  expression  did  not 
change:  Sherman,  watching  him  closely,  could  not  see  that  his 
eyes  even  flickered. 

"That  will  not  satisfy  the  people,"  he  told  the  governor, 
coldly  and  formally.  "However  they  might  consider  your 
intention,  they  will  doubt  your  ability  to  keep  such  a  promise." 
He  was  going  to  say  more,  but  checked  himself  abruptly.  The 
silent  but  intent  attitude  of  the  governor's  four  companions 
had  struck  his  attention.  "They  are  present  as  witnesses!"  he 
told  himself.  Aloud  he  said,  "Sir,  I  will  report  your  remarks 
to  my  associates."  Coleman  wanted  witnesses,  too. 

He  returned  to  the  committee,  interrupting  the  proceedings. 

"The  governor  has  flopped  over  the  fence,"  he  informed  them. 
"He  is  out  there  with  Sherman  and  some  others  threatening  to 
bring  in  the  State  troops  unless  we  turn  Casey  over  to  the  courts 
and  disband.  He  personally  guarantees  a  fair  and  speedy  trial." 

"What  did  you  tell  him?"  demanded  Hossfros. 

"I  haven't  told  him  anything.  It  suddenly  occurred  to  me 
that  I  ought  to  have  witnesses  for  my  side  of  the  conversation. 
What  do  you  think?  " 

"Same  as  I've  always  thought,"  replied  Ward. 

A  murmur  of  assent  greeted  this. 

After  a  remarkably  brief  discussion,  considering  the  delicacy 
of  the  crisis,  Coleman  with  others  returned  to  the  anteroom. 

"Sorry  to  have  kept  you  waiting,"  he  said  blandly,  "but 
some  consideration  of  the  question  was  necessary.  Let  us  un 
derstand  each  other  clearly.  As  I  understand  your  proposal, 
it  is  that,  if  we  make  no  move,  you  guarantee  no  escape,  im 
mediate  trial,  and  instant  execution?  " 

"That  is  it,"  agreed  Johnson,  after  a  moment's  focussing  of 
his  mind.  For  the  first  tune  it  became  evident  to  Coleman 
that  the  man  had  a  trifle  too  much  aboard. 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  305* 

"We  doubt  your  ability  to  do  this,"  went  on  Coleman,  "but 
we  are  ready  to  meet  you  halfway.  This  is  what  we  will  promise: 
we  will  take  no  steps  without  first  giving  you  notice.  But 
in  return  we  insist  that  ten  men  of  our  own  selection  shall  be 
added  to  the  sheriff's  force  within  the  jail." 

"And,"  added  Isaac  Bluxome,  "that  they  be  fed  and  kept 
and  treated  well.  That's  part  of  the  bargain." 

"Why,  that  sounds  fair  and  reasonable,  gentlemen!"  the  gov- 
nor  cried  heartily.  "I  see  no  objection  to  that!  I  was  sure 
we  could  come  to  an  agreement! " 

He  was  suddenly  all  cordiality,  all  smiles,  shaking  each  man's 
hand  in  turn.  His  companions  retained  their  manner  of  gla 
cial  formality,  however.  He  shortly  withdrew,  full  of  spirits, 
very  much  relieved  at  the  lifting  of  what  seemed  to  him  a  cloud 
of  unjust  oppression  for  a  poor  official  who  merely  wanted  peace. 
The  real  situation,  evident  enough  to  the  keener  brains  on  either 
side,  was  veiled  to  him.  For  poor  Johnson  had  thus  far  stepped 
from  one  blunder  into  another.  If  Coleman  were  completely 
outside  the  law,  then  he,  as  an  executive  of  the  law,  had  no 
business  treating  or  making  agreements  with  him  at  all.  Fur 
thermore,  as  executive  of  the  State,  he  had  no  legal  right  to 
interfere  with  city  affairs  unless  formally  summoned  by  the 
authorities — a  procedure  that  had  not  been  adopted.  And  to 
cap  it  all,  he  had  for  the  second  time  treated  with  "rebels"  and 
to  their  advantage.  For,  as  the  astute  Coleman  well  knew,  the 
final  agreement  was  all  to  the  benefit  of  the  committee.  They 
gained  the  right  to  place  a  personal  guard  over  the  prisoners; 
they  gave,  practically,  only  a  promise  to  withdraw  that  guard 
before  attacking  the  jail — a  procedure  eminently  sensible  if 
they  cared  anything  for  the  guard. 

This  little  weakness  was  immediately  and  vigorously  pointed 
out  to  Johnson  when  he  returned  triumphantly  to  his  hotel. 
Keen  minds  were  plenty  in  the  Law  and  Order  party.  Johnson 
was  crestfallen.  Like  all  men  of  little  calibre  elevated  by 
expediency  to  high  office,  he  wanted  above  everything  to  have 
peace,  to  leave  things  as  they  were,  to  avoid  friction. 


3o6  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

"Upon  my  word,  gentlemen!"  cried  the  governor,  dismayed, 
"I  did  it  for  the  best;  and  I  assure  you  I  am  still  convinced  that 
this  agreement — entered  into  in  all  faith  and  sincerity " 

"Bosh!"  boomed  Judge  Caldwell. 

"I  beg  your  pardon!"  said  Johnson,  flushing. 

"I  said  '  bosh,'"  repeated  the  judge,  bringing  the  point  of  his 
cane  against  the  floor.  "You've  muddled  it,  as  every  sensible 
man  can  see.  Best  thing  is  to  put  a  bold  face  on  it.  Take  it 
for  granted  that  the  committee  has  promised  to  surrender  all 
right  of  action,  and  that  they  have  promised  definitely  to  leave 
the  case  to  the  courts." 

"I  hardly  think  they  intended  that,"  murmured  Johnson. 

"Meant!"  snorted  the  judge.  "The  words  will  bear  that 
interpretation,  won't  they?  Who  cares  what  they  meant ! " 

The  following  morning  this  version  was  industriously  passed 
about.  When  Coleman  heard  of  it  he  pulled  his  long  moustache. 

"The  time  has  come,"  he  said  with  decision.  "After  that, 
it  is  either  ourselves  or  a  mob." 

He  went  immediately  to  the  hall. 

"Call  Olney,"  he  told  a  messenger.  The  head  of  the  guard 
was  soon  before  him. 

"Olney,"  said  his  chief,  "will  you  accept  the  command  of  a 
picked  company  in  an  important  but  somewhat  perilous  move 
ment?" 

Olney's  tall  form  stiffened  with  pleasure. 

" I  will— with  thanks!" 

"Well,  then,  pick  out  from  all  the  forces,  of  whatever  com 
panies,  sixty  men.  Accept  none  but  men  of  the  very  highest 
bravery.  Let  them  know  that  they  are  chosen  for  the  post  of 
danger,  which  is  the  post  of  honour,  and  permit  none  to  serve 
who  does  not  so  esteem  it." 

Olney  saluted,  and  went  at  once  to  the  main  floor,  which,  for 
drilling  purposes,  was  shared  by  four  companies.  He  stood 
still  until  his  eye  fell  on  Johnny  Fairfax — him  he  called  aside. 

"You  can  get  the  whole  sixty  right  here  if  you  want  to," 
Johnny  told  him.  "But  if  you  want  to  distribute  things " 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  307 

"Ido,"said01ney. 

"Then  I'd  take  Keith,  Carter,  that  teamster  McGlynn,  and 
Salisbury." 

Together  they  went  the  rounds  of  the  impromptu  armouries, 
going  carefully  over  the  rolls,  picking  a  man  here  and  there.  By 
eight  o'clock  the  sixty,  informed,  equipped,  and  ready,  were 
gathered  at  the  hall.  Olney  dismissed  all  others,  and  set  him 
self  to  drilling  his  picked  body. 

"I  don't  care  whether  you  can  do  'shoulder  arms'  or  not,"  he 
said,  "but  you've  got  to  learn  simple  evolutions  so  I  can  handle 
you.  And  you  must  learn  one  another's  faces.  Now,  come 
on!" 

At  two  o'clock  hi  the  morning  he  expressed  himself  as  sat 
isfied.  From  the  stock  of  blankets  with  which  the  headquar 
ters  were  already  provided  they  selected  bedding,  and  turned 
in  on  the  floor.  At  six  o'clock  Olney  began  to  send  out  detach 
ments  for  breakfast. 

"Feed  up,"  he  advised  them.  "I  don't  know  what  this  is  all 
about,  but  it  pays  to  eat  well." 

By  eight  o'clock  every  man  was  in  his  place,  lined  up  to  rigid 
attention  as  Coleman  entered  the  building. 

"  There  they  are! "  said  Olney  proudly.  "  Every  man  of  them 
of  good,  tough  courage,  and  you  can  handle  them  as  well  as  any 
old  soldiers!" 

Other  men  came  into  the  hall,  some  of  them  in  ranks,  as  they 
had  fallen  in  at  their  own  company  headquarters  outside,  others 
singly  or  in  groups.  Doorkeepers  prevented  all  exit;  once  a 
man  was  in,  he  was  not  permitted  to  go  out.  Some  of  the 
leaders  and  captains,  among  whom  were  Doane,  Olney,  and  Tal- 
bot  Ward,  were  summoned  to  Coleman's  room.  Shortly  they 
emerged,  and  circulated  through  the  hall  giving  to  each  captain 
of  a  company  detailed  and  explicit  directions.  Each  was  in 
structed  as  to  what  hour  he  and  his  command  were  to  start; 
from  what  given  point;  along  exactly  what  route;  and  at  exactly 
what  tune  he  was  to  arrive  at  another  given  point — not  a  mo 
ment  sooner  or  later.  Each  was  ignorant  as  to  the  instructions 


308  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

given  the  others.  Never  was  a  plan  better  laid  out  for  con 
certed  action,  and  probably  never  before  had  such  a  plan  been 
so  well  carried  out.  Each  captain  listened  attentively,  returned 
to  head  his  company,  thoughtful  with  responsibility. 

Olney  gave  the  orders  to  his  picked  company  in  person. 
They  were  told  to  leave  their  muskets.  Armed  only  with 
pistols,  they  were  to  make  their  way  by  different  routes  to  the 
jail. 

Keith  and  Johnny  Fairfax  started  out  together.  "This  is  a 
mistake,  as  far  as  I  am  concerned,"  observed  Keith  to  his  com 
panion.  "  I  can't  shoot  a  pistol.  I  ought  to  be  in  the  rank  and 
file,  not  with  this  picked  lot.  They  chose  me  merely  because  I 
was  your  friend." 

"  You  can  make  a  noise,  anyway,"  replied  Johnny,  whose  eyes 
were  alight  with  excitement.  "I  wonder  what's  up?  This 
looks  like  business!  I  wouldn't  miss  it  for  a  million  dollars! " 

Apparently  the  general  populace  had  no  inkling  that  anything 
was  forward.  The  streets  were  much  as  usual  except  that  an 
inordinate  amount  of  street-corner  discussion  seemed  to  be  go 
ing  on;  but  that  in  view  of  the  circumstances  was  normal.  A 
broad-beamed  Irish  woman  under  full  sail  alone  accosted  them. 
Her  face  Keith  vaguely  recognized,  but  he  could  not  have  told 
where  he  had  seen  it. 

"I  hear  Mr.  King,  God  rest  him,  is  better,"  she  said.  "And 
what  are  the  men  going  to  do  with  that  villain,  Casey?  If  the 
men  don't  hang  him,  the  women  will!" 

A  little  farther  Keith  stopped  short  at  sight  of  two  men  hurry 
ing  by. 

"Hold  on,  Watkins!"  he  called. 

The  four  of  them  drew  aside  a  little  out  of  the  way. 

"Weren't  you  in  the  jail  guard?"  asked  Keith. 

Watkins  nodded. 

"How  does  it  happen  you're  outside?" 

"The  committee  sent  notice  that  the  truce  was  over." 

Johnny  uttered  an  exultant  yell,  which  he  cut  short  shame 
facedly  when  a  dozen  passersby  looked  around. 


LIX 

IT  HAPPENED  on  this  day  that  Nan  Keith  had  refused  an 
invitation  to  ride  with  Ben  Sansome,  but  had  agreed  as  a 
compromise  to  give  him  a  cup  of  tea  late  in  the  afternoon. 
Nan's  mood  was  latterly  becoming  more  and  more  restless. 
It  was  an  unconscious  reflection  of  the  times,  unconscious  be 
cause  she  had  no  real  conception  of  what  was  going  on.  In 
obedience  to  Keith's  positively  expressed  request  she  had 
kept  away  from  the  downtown  districts,  leaving  the  neces 
sary  marketing  to  Wing  Sam.  For  the  moment,  as  has  been 
explained,  her  points  of  touch  with  society  were  limited.  It 
happened  that  before  the  trouble  began  the  Keiths  had  been 
subscribers  to  the  Bulletin  and  the  Herald,  and  these  two  jour 
nals  continued  to  be  delivered.  Neither  of  them  gave  her  much 
idea  of  what  was  really  going  on.  For  a  moment  her  imagina 
tion  was  touched  by  the  blank  space  of  white  paper  the  Bulletin 
left  where  King's  editorials  had  usually  been  printed,  but  Thomas 
King's  subsequent  violence  had  repelled  her.  The  Herald, 
after  rashly  treating  the  "affray"  as  a  street  brawl,  lost  hundreds 
of  subscribers  and  most  of  its  advertising.  It  shrunk  to  a  sheet 
a  quarter  of  its  usual  size.  Naturally,  its  editor,  John  Nugent, 
was  the  more  solidly  and  bitterly  aligned  with  the  Law  and  Order 
party.  The  true  importance  of  the  revolt,  either  as  an  ethical 
movement  or  merely  as  regards  its  physical  size,  did  not  get  to 
Nan  at  all  She  knew  the  time  was  one  of  turmoils  and  excite 
ments.  She  believed  the  city  in  danger  of  mobs.  Her  attitude 
might  be  described  as  a  mixture  of  fastidious  disapproval  and  a 
sympathetic  restlessness. 

About  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  Mrs.  Sherwood  came  up 
the  front  walk  and  rang  the  bell.    Nan,  sitting  behind  lace 

309 


310  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

curtains,  was  impressed  by  her  air  of  controlled  excitement. 
Mrs.  Sherwood  hurried.  She  hurried  gracefully,  to  be  sure,  and 
with  a  reminiscence  of  her  usual  feline  indolence;  but  she  hurried, 
nevertheless.  Therefore,  Nan  herself  answered  the  bell,  instead 
of  awaiting  the  deliberate  Wing  Sam. 

"My  dear,"  cried  Mrs.  Sherwood,  "get  your  mantle,  and  come 
with  me.  There's  something  going  to  happen — something 

big!" 

She  refused  to  answer  Nan's  questions. 

"You'll  see,"  was  all  the  reply  she  vouchsafed.     "Hurry!" 

They  crossed  by  the  new  graded  streets  where  the  sand  hills  had 
been,  and  soon  found  themselves  on  the  low  elevations  above  the 
county  jail.  Mrs.  Sherwood  led  the  way  to  the  porch  of  a  one- 
story  wooden  house  that  appeared  to  be  unoccupied. 

"This  is  fine!"  she  said  with  satisfaction. 

The  jail  was  just  below  them,  and  they  looked  directly  across 
the  open  square  in  front  of  it  and  the  convergence  of  two 
streets.  The  jail  was  buzzing  like  a  hive:  men  were  coming  and 
going  busily,  running  away  as  though  on  errands,  or  darting  in 
through  the  open  door.  Armed  men  were  taking  their  places  on 
the  flat  roof. 

In  contrast  to  this  one  little  spot  of  excited  activity,  the  rest  of 
the  scene  was  almost  superlatively  peaceful.  People  were  drift 
ing  in  from  all  the  side  streets,  but  they  were  sauntering  slowly, 
as  though  without  particular  interest;  they  might  have  been 
going  to  or  coming  from  church.  A  warm,  basking,  Sunday  feel 
was  in  the  sunshine.  There  was  not  the  faintest  breeze.  Distant 
sounds  carried  clearly,  as  the  barking  of  a  dog — it  might  have 
been  Gringo  shut  up  at  home — or  the  crowing  of  a  distant  cock. 
From  the  square  below  arose  the  murmur  of  a  multitude  talking. 
The  groups  of  people  increased  in  frequency,  in  numbers. 
Black  forms  began  to  appear  on  roof  tops  all  about;  white  faces 
at  windows.  It  would  have  been  impossible  to  say  when  the 
scattered  groups  became  a  crowd;  when  the  side  of  the  square 
filled;  when  the  converging  streets  became  black  with  closely 
packed  people;  when  the  windows  and  doors  and  balconies,  the 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  311 

copings  and  railings,  the  slopes  of  the  hills  were  all  occupied,  but 
so  it  was.  Before  she  fairly  realized  that  many  were  gathering, 
Nan  looked  down  on  twenty  thousand  people.  They  took  their 
positions  quietly,  and  waited.  There  was  no  shouting,  no  dem 
onstration,  so  little  talking  that  the  low  murmur  never  rendered 
inaudible  the  barking  of  the  dog  or  the  crowing  of  the  distant 
cock.  The  doors  of  the  jail  had  dosed.  Men  ceased  going  in 
and  out.  The  armed  forces  on  the  roof  were  increased. 

Nan  had  left  off  asking  questions  of  Mrs.  Sherwood,  who  an 
swered  none.  The  feeling  of  tense  expectation  filled  her  also. 
What  was  forward?  Was  this  a  mob?  Why  were  these  people 
gathered?  Somehow  they  gave  her  the  impression  that  they,  too, 
like  Mrs.  Sherwood  and  herself,  were  waiting  to  see. 

After  a  long  time  she  saw  the  closely  packed  crowd  down  the 
vista  of  one  of  the  converging  streets  move  in  the  agitation  of 
some  disturbance.  A  moment  later  the  sun  caught  files  of  bay 
onets.  At  the  same  instant  the  same  thing  happened  at  the  end 
of  the  other  converging  street.  The  armed  columns  came  stead 
ily  forward,  the  people  giving  way.  Their  men  were  dressed  in 
sober  citizens'  clothes.  The  shining  steel  of  the  bayonets  fur 
nished  the  only  touch  of  uniform.  Quietly  and  steadily  they 
came  forward,  the  snake  of  steel  undulating  and  twisting  like  a 
living  thing.  The  two  columns  reached  the  convergence  of  the 
street  together.  As  they  entered  the  square  before  the  jail,  a 
third  and  fourth  column  debouched  from  side  streets,  and  others 
deployed  into  view  on  the  hills  behind.  The  timing  was  perfect. 
One  minute  the  prospect  was  empty  of  all  but  spectators,  the 
next  it  was  filled  with  grim  and  silent  armed  men. 

Near  the  two  women  and  among  chance  spectators  on  the 
piazza  of  the  deserted  house  a  well-known  character  of  the  times 
leaned  against  one  of  the  pillars.  This  was  Colonel  Gift.  Our 
chronicler,  who  has  an  eye  for  the  telling  phrase,  describes  him  as 
"a  tall,  lank,  empty-bowelled,  tobacco-spurting  Southerner,  with 
eyes  like  burning  black  balls,  who  could  talk  a  company  of 
listeners  into  an  insane  asylum  quicker  than  any  man  hi  Cali 
fornia,  and  whose  blasphemy  could  not  be  equalled,  either  in 


312  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

quantity  or  quality,  by  the  most  profane  of  any  age  or  nation." 
In  this  crisis  Colonel  Gift's  sympathies  may  be  guessed.  He 
watched  the  scene  below  him  with  a  sardonic  eye.  As  the  armed 
columns  wheeled  into  place  and  stood  at  attention,  he  turned  to  a 
man  standing  near. 

"I  tell  you,  stranger,"  said  he,  "when  you  see  those  damned 
psalm-singing  Yankees  turn  out  of  their  churches,  shoulder  their 
guns,  and  march  away  of  a  Sunday,  you  may  know  that  hell  is 
going  to  crack  shortly!" 

Mrs.  Sherwood  turned  an  amused  eye  in  his  direction.  The 
colonel,  for  the  first  time  becoming  aware  of  her  presence,  swept 
off  his  black  slouch  hat  and  apologized  profusely  for  the  "damn." 

The  armed  men  stood  rigid,  four  deep  all  around  the  square. 
Behind  them  the  masses  of  the  people  watched.    Even  the 
murmur  died.     Again  everybody  waited. 

Now,  at  a  command,  the  ranks  fell  apart  and  from  the  side 
street  marched  the  sixty  men  chosen  by  Olney  dragging  a  field 
gun  at  the  end  of  a  rope.  Their  preliminary  task  of  watching  the 
jail  for  a  possible  escape  finished,  they  had  been  again  gathered. 
With  beautiful  military  precision  they  wheeled  and  came  to  rest 
facing  the  frowning  walls  of  the  jail,  the  cannon  pointed  at  the 
door. 

Nan  gasped  sharply,  and  seized  Mrs.  Sherwood's  arm  with 
both  hands.  She  had  recognized  Keith  standing  by  the  right 
wheel  of  the  cannon.  He  was  looking  straight  ahead,  and  the  ex 
pression  on  his  face  was  one  she  had  never  seen  there  before. 
Suddenly  something  swelled  up  within  her  breast  and  choked 
her.  The  tears  rushed  to  her  eyes. 

Quite  deliberately,  each  motion  in  plain  sight,  the  cannon  was 
loaded  with  powder  and  ball.  A  man  lit  a  slow  match,  blew  it 
painstakingly  to  a  glow,  then  took  his  position  at  the  breech. 
The  slight  innumerable  sounds  of  these  activities  died.  The 
bustle  of  men  moving  imperceptibly  fell.  Not  even  the  coughing 
and  sneezing  usual  to  a  gathering  of  people  paying  attention  was 
heard,  for  the  intense  interest  inhibited  these  nervous  symptoms. 
Probably  never  have  twenty  thousand  people,  gathered  in  one 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  313 

place,  made  their  presence  so  little  evident.  A  deep,  solemn 
stillness  brooded  over  them.  The  spring  sun  lay  warm  and 
grateful  on  men's  shoulders;  the  doves  and  birds,  the  distant  dogs 
and  roosters,  cooed  and  twittered,  barked  and  crowed. 

Nothing  happened  for  full  ten  minutes.  The  picked  men 
stood  rigid  by  the  gun  in  the  middle  of  the  square;  the  slow 
match  burned  sleepily,  a  tiny  thread  of  smoke  rising  in  the  still 
air;  the  sunlight  gleamed  from  the  ranks  of  bayonets;  the  vast 
multitude  held  its  breath,  the  walls  of  the  jail  remained  blank  and 
inscrutable. 

Then  a  man  on  horseback  was  seen  pushing  his  way  through 
the  crowd.  He  rode  directly  up  to  the  jail  door,  on  which  he 
rapped  thrice  with  the  handle  of  his  riding  whip.  Against  the 
silence  these  taps,  but  gently  delivered,  sounded  sharp  and 
staccato.  After  a  moment  the  wicket  opened.  The  rider,  with- 
out  dismounting,  handed  through  it  a  note;  then,  with  a  superb 
display  of  the  old-fashioned  horsemanship,  backed  his  horse  half 
the  length  of  the  square  where  he,  too,  came  to  rest. 

"  Who  is  he?  "  whispered  Nan.  Why  she  whispered  she  could 
not  have  told. 

"  Charles  Doane,"  answered  Mrs.  Sherwood,  in  the  same 
voice. 

Another  commotion  down  the  street.  Again  the  ranks  parted 
and  closed  again,  this  time  to  admit  three  carriages  driven 
rapidly.  As  they  came  to  a  stop  the  muskets  all  around  the 
square  leaped  to  the  "present."  So  disconcerting  was  this 
sudden  slap  and  rattle  of  arms  after  the  tenseness  of  the  last  half 
hour,  that  men  dodged  back  as  though  from  a  blow.  With 
admirable  precision,  Olney's  men,  obeying  a  series  of  commands, 
moved  forward  from  the  gun  to  form  a  hollow  square  around  the 
carriages.  Only  the  man  with  the  burning  slow  match  was  left 
standing  by  the  breech. 

From  the  carriages  then  descended  Coleman,  Truett,  Talbot 
Ward,  Smiley,  and  two  other  men  whom  neither  Nan  nor  Mrs. 
Sherwood  recognized.  Amid  the  dead  silence  they  walked 
directly  to  the  jail  door,  Olney's  Sixty  breaking  the  square  and 


3  H  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

deploying  close  at  their  heels.  A  low  colloquy  through  the 
wicket  now  took  place.  At  length  the  door  swung  slowly  open. 
The  committee  entered.  The  door  swung  shut  after  them.  Again 
the  people  waited,  but  now  once  more  arose  the  murmur  of  low- 
toned  conversation. 


LX 

UP  TO  this  day  Casey  had  been  very  content  with  his 
situation.  His  quarters  were  the  best  the  place  afforded, 
and  they  had  been  made  more  comfortable.  Scores  of 
friends  had  visited  him,  hailing  him  as  their  champion.  He  had 
been  made  to  feel  quite  a  hero.  To  be  sure  it  was  a  nuisance  to 
be  so  confined;  but  when  he  shot  King,  he  had  anticipated 
undergoing  some  inconvenience.  It  was  a  price  to  pay.  He 
understood  that  there  was  some  public  excitement,  and  that  it 
was  well  to  lie  low  for  a  little  until  that  had  died  down.  The 
momentary  annoyance  would  be  more  than  offset  by  later 
prestige.  Casey  did  not  in  the  least  fear  the  courts.  He  had 
before  his  eyes  too  many  reassuring  examples.  His  friends  were 
rallying  nobly  to  his  defence.  Over  the  wines  and  cigars,  with 
which  he  was  liberally  supplied,  they  boasted  of  their  strength  and 
their  dispositions — the  whole  police  force  of  the  city,  the  militia 
companies  sworn  to  act  in  just  such  emergencies,  hundreds  of  vol 
unteers,  if  necessary  the  whole  power  of  the  State  of  California 
called  to  put  down  this  affronting  of  duly  constituted  law ! 

But  this  Sunday  morning  Casey  was  uneasy.  There  seemed 
to  be  much  whispering  in  corners,  much  bustling  to  and  fro.  He 
paced  back  and  forth,  fretting,  interrogating  those  about  him. 
But  they  could  or  would  tell  him  little — there  was  trouble — and 
they  fussed  away,  leaving  Casey  alone.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the 
withdrawal  of  the  committee's  guard  of  ten,  and  the  formal 
notice  that  the  truce  was  thus  promptly  ended,  had  caught  the 
Law  and  Order  party  unprepared.  With  five  hours'  notice — or 
indeed  by  next  day,  even  were  no  notice  given — the  jail  would 
have  been  impregnably  defended.  The  sudden  move  of  the 
committee  won;  as  prompt,  decisive  moves  will. 


316  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

The  bustling  of  the  people  in  the  jail  suddenly  died.  Casey 
heard  no  shuffle  of  feet,  no  whisper  of  conversation.  The 
building  might  have  been  empty  eave  for  himself.  But  he  did 
hear  outside  the  steady  rhythmic  tramp  of  feet. 

Sheriff  Scannell  stood  before  him,  the  Vigilantes'  written 
communication  in  his  hand.  Casey,  looking  up  from  the  bed  on 
which  he  had  fallen  in  sudden  shrinking,  saw  on  his  face  an  ex 
pression  that  made  him  cower.  For  the  first  time  realization 
came  to  him  of  the  straits  he  was  in.  His  vivid  Irish  imagination 
leaped  instantaneously  from  the  complacence  of  absolute  safety 
to  the  depths  of  terror.  He  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"You  aren't  going  to  betray  me!  You  aren't  going  to  give 
me  up! "  he  cried,  wringing  his  hands. 

"James,"  replied  Scannell  solemnly,  "there  are  three  thousand 
armed  men  coming  for  you,  and  I  have  not  now  thirty  supporters 
around  the  jail." 

"Not  thirty!"  cried  Casey,  astonished.  For  a  moment  he 
appeared  crushed;  then  leaped  to  his  feet  flourishing  a  long  knife 
he  had  drawn  from  his  boot.  "I'll  not  be  taken  from  this  place 
alive!"  he  shrieked,  beside  himself  with  hysteria.  "Where  are 
all  you  brave  fellows  who  were  going  to  see  me  through  this? '? 

Scannell  looked  at  him  sadly.  In  the  pause  came  a  sharp 
knocking  at  the  door  of  the  jail.  The  sheriff  turned  away.  A 
moment  later  Casey,  listening  intently,  heard  the  door  open  and 
close,  heard  the  sound  of  talking.  He  fairly  darted  to  his  table, 
scrawled  a  paper,  and  called  to  attract  attention.  Marshal 
North  answered  the  summons. 

"Give  this  to  them— to  the  Vigilantes,"  urged  Casey,  thrust 
ing  the  paper  into  his  hands.  North  glanced  through  the  note. 

To  THE  VIGILANT  COMMITTEE.  Gentlemen:  I  am  willing  to 
go  before  you  if  you  will  let  me  speak  but  ten  minutes.  I  do  not 
wish  the  blood  of  any  man  upon  my  head. 

JAS.  CASEY. 

But  after  North  had  gone  to  deliver  this,  Casey  again  sprang 
to  his  feet,  again  flourished  his  bowie  knife,  again  ramped  up  and 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  317 

down,  again  swore  he  would  never  be  taken  alive.  A  deputy 
passed  the  door.  Casey's  demeanour  collapsed  again. 

"Tell  them,"  he  begged  this  man  earnestly;  "tell  them  if  two 
respectable  citizens  will  promise  me  gentlemanly  treatment,  I'll 
go  peaceably!  I  will  not  be  dragged  through  the  streets  like  a 
dog!  If  they  will  give  me  a  fair  trial  and  allow  me  to  summon 
my  witnesses,  I'll  yield!" 

And  the  deputy  left  him  pacing  up  and  down,  waving  his  knife, 
muttering  wildly  to  himself. 

On  entering  the  jail  door  Coleman  and  his  companions  bowed 
formally  to  the  sheriff. 

"  We  have  come  for  the  prisoner,  Casey,"  said  Coleman.  "  We 
ask  that  he  be  peaceably  delivered  us  handcuffed,  at  the  door, 
immediately." 

"Under  existing  circumstances,"  replied  Scannell,  "I  shall 
make  no  resistance.  The  prison  and  its  contents  are  yours." 

But  Truett  interrupted  pointedly: 

"We  want  only  the  man  Casey,  at  present,"  he  said.  "For 
the  rest  we  hold  you  strictly  accountable." 

Scannell  bowed  without  reply.  North  and  the  deputy  came 
in  succession  to  deliver  Casey's  messages,  and  to  report  his 
apparent  determination.  The  committee  offered  no  comment. 
They  penetrated  to  the  interior  of  the  jail.  Many  men,  ap 
parently  unarmed,  idling  about  as  though  merely  spectators, 
looked  at  them  curiously  as  they  passed.  Casey  heard  them 
coming  and  sprang  back  from  the  door,  holding  his  long  knife 
dramatically  poised.  Coleman  walked  directly  to  the  door, 
where  he  stopped,  looking  Casey  coldly  hi  the  eye.  The  seconds 
passed.  Neither  man  stirred.  At  the  end  of  a  full  minute  Cole 
man  said  sharply: 

"Lay  down  that  knife!" 

As  though  his  incisive  tones  had  broken  the  spell,  Casey  moved. 
He  looked  wildly  to  right  and  to  left;  then  flung  the  knife  from 
him  and  buried  his  face  in  his  hands. 

"Your  requests  are  granted,"  said  Coleman  shortly;  then  to 
Marshal  North :  "Open  the  door  and  bring  him  out." 


LXI 

ON  THE  veranda  of  the  unoccupied  house  above  the  jail 
Nan  Keith  stood  rigid,  her  hand  upon  her  heart.  During 
the  period  of  the  committee's  absence  inside  the  jail  she 
did  not  alter  her  position  by  a  hair's  breadth.  She  was  in  the 
hypnosis  of  a  portentous  waiting.  Time  fell  Into  the  abyss  of 
eternity:  whether  it  were  ten  minutes  or  ten  hours  did  not  matter 
in  the  least. 

For  this  was  to  Nan  in  the  nature  of  a  revelation  so  sudden 
and  so  complete  that  it  filled  her  whole  soul.  Had  she  known 
what  Mrs.  Sherwood  was  taking  her  to  see,  she  would  have  pre- 
visualized  a  drunken,  disorderly,  howling,  bloodthirsty  mob;  a 
huge  composite  of  brawling  antagonisms,  of  blind  fury,  of  vulgar 
irrationalisms.  Here  were  men  filled  with  purpose.  This  was 
what  caught  at  her  breath — the  grim  silent  purpose  of  it!  The 
orderly  progression  of  events,  moving  with  the  certainty  of  a  fate, 
was  like  the  steady  crescendo  of  solemn  music.  And  this  cre 
scendo  rose  in  her  as  a  tide  of  emotion  that  overflowed  and 
drowned  her.  The  right  and  wrong — as  she  had  examined  them 
intellectually  or  through  the  darkened  glasses  of  her  caste  preju 
dices — were  quite  lost.  This  was  merely  something  primitive, 
wonderful,  beautiful.  The  spectacle  was  at  the  moment  of 
suspense,  yet  she  felt  no  impatience — the  wheel  must  turn  in  its 
own  majestic  circle — but  only  an  intense  expectation.  And  in 
this  she  felt,  subconsciously,  that  she  was  one  with  the  multitude. 

The  jail  door  swung  open.  The  committee  came  out.  In  the 
middle  of  their  compact  group  walked  a  stranger. 

" Casey! "  breathed  a  vast  voice  from  the  crowd. 

An  indescribable  burst  of  grateful  relief  fluttered  across  the  up 
turned  faces  as  a  breeze  across  water.  It  was  almost  timid  at 

318 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  319 

first,  but  gathered  strength  as  it  spread.  It  rolled  up  the  hillside. 
A  great,  deep  breath  seemed  to  fill  the  lungs  of  the  throng.  The 
murmur  swelled  suddenly,  was  on  the  point  of  bursting  into  the 
frantic  cheering  of  twenty  thousand  men. 

But  Coleman,  his  hat  removed,  raised  his  hand.  In  obedience 
to  the  simple  gesture  the  cheer  was  stifled.  In  an  instant  all  was 
still.  The  little  group  entered  the  carriages,  which  immediately 
wheeled  and  drove  away. 

Nan,  standing  bolt  upright,  her  attitude  still  unchanged, 
caught  her  breath  at  the  inhibition  of  the  cheer.  She  did  not 
even  try  to  wink  away  the  tears  that  rolled  down  her  cheeks. 
Through  them  she  saw  the  troops  wheel  with  the  precision  of 
veterans,  and  march  away  after  the  carriages.  The  crowd 
melted  slowly.  Soon  were  left  only  the  inscrutable  jail,  the  gun 
still  pointed  at  its  door,  the  rigid  ranks  of  Olney's  Sixty,  who  had 
evidently  been  left  on  guard,  and  a  few  stragglers. 

Suddenly  she  turned  and  walked  away.  Mrs.  Sherwood  fol 
lowed  her  as  rapidly  as  she  could,  but  did  not  succeed  in  catch 
ing  up  with  her.  At  the  corner  below  the  Keiths'  house  she 
stopped,  watched  until  Nan  had  gained  her  own  dooryard,  then 
turned  toward  home,  a  smile  sketching  her  lips,  a  light  in  her  eyes. 

Nan  flung  open  her  door  and  went  directly  to  the  parlour. 
She  stood  in  the  doorway  contemplating  the  scene.  It  was  very 
cozy.  The  afternoon  sun  slanted  through  the  high  narrow  win 
dows  of  the  period,  gilding  the  dust  motes  floating  lazily  to  and 
fro.  The  tea  table,  set  with  a  snowy  cloth,  glittered  invitingly, 
its  silver  and  porcelain,  its  plates  of  dainty  sandwiches  and  thin 
waferlike  cookies — Wing  Sam's  specialty — enticingly  displayed. 
Two  easy  chairs  had  been  drawn  close,  and  before  the  un 
occupied  one  a  low  footstool  had  been  placed.  Ben  Sansome 
sat  in  the  other.  He  was,  as  usual,  exquisitely  dressed.  All 
his  little  appointments  were  not  only  correct  but  worn  easily. 
The  varicoloured  waistcoat,  the  sparkling  studs  and  cravat  pins, 
the  bright,  soft  silk  tie,  were  all  subdued  from  their  ordinary 
too- vivid  effect  by  the  grace  with  which  they  were  carried.  Nan 
saw  all  this,  and  appreciated  it  dispassionately,  appraising  him 


32o  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

anew  through' clarified  vision.  Especially  she  noticed  the 
waxed  ends  of  his  small  moustache.  He  had,  at  the  sound  of 
her  entrance,  lighted  the  tea  kettle;  and  as  she  came  in  he  smiled 
up  at  her  brightly. 

"  You  see,"  he  cried  gayly,  "  I  am  doing  your  task  for  you !  I 
have  the  lamp  all  lit!" 

She  paid  no  attention  to  this,  but  advanced  two  steps  into  the 
room. 

"Which  side  are  you  on,  anyway?"  she  asked  abruptly  and  a 
little  harshly. 

Sansome  raised  his  eyebrows  in  faint  and  fastidious  surprise. 

"Dear  lady,  what  do  you  mean?" 

"The  only  thing  I  can  mean  in  these  times:  are  you  with  the 
Law  and  Order,  or  with  the  Committee  of  Vigilance?" 

Sansome  shrugged  his  shoulders  whimsically  and  sank  back 
into  his  chair. 

"How  can  you  ask  that,  dear  lady?"  he  begged  pathetically. 
"You  would  not  class  me  with  the  rabble,  I  hope." 

But  Nan  did  not  in  the  slightest  degree  respond  to  the  light 
ness  of  his  tone.  Her  own  was  cold  and  detached.  . 

"I  do  not  know  how  to  class  you,"  she  said.  "But  I  asked 
you  a  question." 

Sansome  arose  to  his  feet  again.  His  manner  now  became 
sympathetic,  but  into  it  had  crept  the  least  hint  of  resentment. 

"I  don't  understand  your  mood,"  he  told  her.  "You  are 
overwrought." 

Nan's  self-control  slipped  by  ever  so  little.  She  did  not  actu 
ally  stamp  her  foot,  but  her  delivery  of  her  next  speech  achieved 
that  for  her. 

"Will  you  answer  me?"  she  demanded.  "Which  side  are 
you  on?" 

"I  am  on  the  side  every  gentleman  is  on,"  replied  Sansome,  a 
trifle  stung.  "  The  side  of  the  law." 

"Then,"  she  cried,  with  a  sudden  intensity,  "why  weren't  you 
there— on  your  side— defending  the  jail?  Why  are  you  here?" 

Ben  Sansome 's  knowledge  of  women  was  wide,  and  he  there- 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  321 

fore  imagined  it  profound.  Here  he  recognized  the  symptoms 
of  hysteria;  cause  unknown.  He  adopted  the  lightly  soothing. 

"I  thought  I  was  asked  here!"  he  cried  with  quizzical  mock 
pathos. 

She  stared  at  him  a  contemplative  instant  so  steadily  that 
he  coloured.  She  was  not  seeing  him,  however;  she  was  seeing 
Keith,  standing  with  his  fellows  in  the  open,  under  the  walls  of 
the  jail  and  its  hidden  guns.  With  a  short  laugh  she  turned 
away. 

"You  were,"  said  she.  "Help  yourself  to  tea.  As  you  say, 
I  am  overwrought.  I  am  going  to  lie  down." 

Her  one  compelling  instinct  now  was  to  get  away  from  him 
before  something  in  her  brain  snapped.  He  became  soothing. 

"Won't  you  have  a  cup  of  tea  first?"  he  urged.  "It  will  do 
you  good." 

"A  cup  of  tea!"  she  repeated  with  deadly  calm.  It  seemed 
such  an  ending  to  such  a  day!  She  tried  to  laugh,  but  strangled 
in  her  throat;  and  she  bolted  wildly  from  the  room,  leaving  Ben 
Sansome  staring. 


LXII 

NAN'S  high  exaltation  of  spirit,  which  still  soared  at  the 
altitude  to  which  the  events  of  the  afternoon  had  lifted 
it,  next  expressed  itself  in  a  characteristically  feminine 
manner:  she  picked  flowers  in  the  garden,  arranged  them,  placed 
them  effectively,  set  the  table  herself,  lighted  the  lamps,  touched 
a  match  to  the  wood  fire  always  comfortable  in  San  Francisco 
evenings,  slightly  altered  the  position  of  the  chairs,  visited  Wing 
Sam  with  fresh  instructions.  Gringo,  who  looked  on  all  this  as 
for  his  especial  benefit,  took  his  place  luxuriously  before  the  grate. 
It  was  a  cozy,  homelike  scene.  Then  she  dressed  slowly  and 
carefully  in  her  most  becoming  gown — the  only  gown  Keith  had 
ever  definitely  singled  out  for  individual  praise — took  especial 
pains  with  her  hair,  and  finally  descended  to  join  Gringo.  The 
latter,  as  a  greeting  intended  to  show  his  entire  confidence, 
promptly  rolled  over  to  expose  his  vitals  to  her  should  it  be  her 
pleasure  to  hurt  a  poor  defenceless  dog.  He  was  a  ridiculous 
sight,  upside  down,  his  tongue  lolling  out,  his  eye  rolled  up  at 
her  adoringly.  She  laughed  at  him  a  little,  then  leaned  swiftly 
over  to  confide  something  in  his  ear.  / 

But  that  evening  Keith  was  late  The  clock  on  the  mantel 
chimed  clearly  the  hour,  then  the  quarter  and  the  half.  Whig 
Sam  came  to  protest  aggrievedly  that  "him  glub  catchumcold — 
you  no  wait ! "  Nan  was  severe  with  Whig  Sam  and  his'suggestion 
— so  unwontedly  severe  that  Wing  Sam  returned  to  the  kitchen 
muttering  darkly.  He  had  caught  the  atmosphere  of  celebra 
tion,  somehow,  and  on  his  own  initiative  had  frosted  with  wonder 
ful  white  a  cake  not  yet  cut,  and  on  the  cake  had  carefully 
traced  pink  legends  in  Chinese  and  English  characters.  The 
former  was  one  of  those  conventional  mottoes  seen  on  every 

322 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  323 

laundry,  club,  and  temple  which  would  have  translated  " Health, 
long  life,  and  happiness";  the  other  Wing  Sam  had  copied  from 
a  lithograph  he  much  admired.  It  read  "Use  Rising  Sun  Stove 
Polish."  Glowering  with  resentment,  Wing  Sam  scraped  the 
frosting  from  the  cake. 

At  eight  o'clock  a  small  boy  delivered  a  note  at  the  door  and 
scuttled  back  to  the  centre  of  excitement.  It  was  a  scrawl  from 
Keith,  saying  that  he  was  detained,  would  not  be  home  to  din 
ner,  might  not  be  in  at  all.  Nan  sat  down  to  a  cold,  belated 
meal  served  by  a  loftily  disapproving  Chinaman.  She  tried 
to  think  of  her  pride  in  Keith,  and  the  work  he,  in  company  with 
his  fellows,  was  doing  for  the  city;  to  recall  some  of  her  exalta 
tion  of  the  afternoon;  but  it  was  very  difficult.  Her  little 
preparations  were  so  much  nearer.  The  table,  the  flowers,  the 
shaded  lamps,  the  fire  on  the  hearth,  her  gown,  the  twist  of  her 
hair,  all  mocked  her  anticipations.  In  spite  of  herself  her 
spirits  went  down  to  zero.  She  could  not  eat,  she  could  not 
even  sit  at  the  table  through  the  service  of  the  various  courses. 
Midway  in  the  meal  she  threw  aside  her  napkin  and  re 
turned  abruptly  to  the  drawing-room.  The  fire  was  snapping 
merrily  on  the  hearth.  Gringo  opened  his  eyes  at  her  entrance, 
recognized  his  beloved  mistress,  and  rolled  over  as  usual,  all 
four  legs  in  the  air,  his  tender  stomach  confidingly  exposed,  for 
who  could  be  so  brutal  as  to  hurt  a  poor  defenceless  dog?  Nan 
kicked  him  pettishly  in  the  ribs.  Gringo  stopped  panting,  and 
drew  in  his  tongue,  but  otherwise  did  not  shift  his  posture.  This 
was,  of  course,  a  mistake.  Nan  kicked  him  again.  Gringo 
rose  deliberately  and  retired  with  dignity  to  the  coldest,  darkest, 
most  cheerless  corner  he  could  find,  where  he  sat  and  looked 
dejected. 

"You  look  such  a  silly  fool!"  Nan  told  him  relentlessly. 

Thus  passed  the  moment  of  exaltation  and  expansion.  If 
Keith  had  come  home  to  dine,  it  is  probable  that  the  barrier 
between  them — of  which  he  was  only  dimly  conscious — would 
have  been  broken.  But  by  midnight  Nan  had,  as  she  imagined, 
"thought  out"  the  situation.  She  was  able  to  see  him  now 


324  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

through  eyes  purged  of  self-pity  or  self-thought.  She  came  to 
full  realization,  which  she  formulated  to  herself,  that  she  was 
not  now  the  central  point  of  his  interest — that  she  was  "no 
longer"  the  central  point,  as  she  expressed  it.  She  was  right 
also  in  her  conclusion  that  all  day  long  he  hardly  gave  her  more 
than  a  perfunctory  thought.  So  far,  her  facts  were  absolutely 
correct.  But  Nan  was,  in  spite  of  her  natural  good  mind  and 
married  experience,  too  ignorant  of  man  psychology  to  draw  the 
true  conclusion.  Indeed,  very  few  women  ever  realize  man's 
possibilities  of  single-minded  purpose  and  concentration  to  the 
temporary  exclusion  of  other  things.  Keith's  whole  being  was 
carried  by  this  moral  movement  in  which  he  was  involved.  He 
simply  took  Nan  for  granted^and  that  is  something  a  woman 
never  gets  used  to,  and  always  misinterprets^/ 

"He  no  longer  loves  me!"  she  said  to  herself,  in  this  hour  of 
plain  thinking.  She  faced  it  squarely;  and  her  heart  sank  to 
the  depths;  for  she  still  loved  him,  and  the  sight  of  him  that 
afternoon  amid  the  guns  had  told  her  how  much. 

But  her  next  thought  was  not  of  herself,  but  of  him,  and  the 
situation  in  which  he  was  working  out  his  destiny.  "How  can 
I  best  help?"  she  asked  herself,  which  showed  that  the  spirit 
aroused  in  her  that  afternoon  had  not  in  reality  died.  And  her 
intellect  relentlessly  pointed  out  to  her  that  her  only  aid  would 
come  from  her  self-effacement,  her  standing  one  side.  When  the 
great  work  was  done,  then,  perhaps— 

So  affairs  in  the  Keith  household  went  on  exactly  as  before. 
Nobody  but  Gringo  knew  that  anything  had  happened;  and  he 
only  realized  that  the  universe  had  suffered  an  upheaval,  so 
that  now  mistresses  might  kick  their  poor  defenceless  dogs  in 
the  stomach. 


LXIII 

CASEY  was  safely  in  custody.  Cora  also  had  been  taken  on 
a  second  trip  to  the  jail.  They  had  been  escorted  into 
the  headquarters,  the  doors  of  which  had  closed  behind 
them  and  behind  the  armed  men  who  guarded  them.  The 
streets  were  filled  with  an  orderly  crowd.  They  waited  with 
that  same  absence  of  excitement,  impatience,  or  tumult  so  charac 
teristic  of  all  the  popular  gatherings  of  that  earnest  time,  save 
when  the  upholders  of  the  law  were  gathered.  After  a  long  in 
terval  one  of  the  committeemen,  Dows  by  name,  appeared  at  an 
upper  window.  He  did  not  have  to  appeal  for  attention,  and 
had  barely  to  raise  his  voice. 

"'It  is  not  the  intention  of  the  committee  to  be  hasty,"  he 
announced.  "Nothing  more  will  be  done  to-day." 

Silence  greeted  this  statement.     At  last  some  one  spoke  up: 

"Where  are  Casey  and  Cora?"  he  asked. 

"The  committee  holds  possession  of  the  jail;  all  are  safe," 
replied  Dows. 

With  this  assurance  the  crowd  was  completely  satisfied,  as  it 
proved  by  dispersing  quietly  and  at  once. 

Of  the  three  thousand  enrolled  men,  three  hundred  were 
retained  under  arms  at  headquarters;  a  hundred  surrounded 
and  watched  the  jail;  the  rest  were  dismissed.  About  mid 
night  a  dense  fog  descended  on  the  city.  The  streets  were 
deserted.  But  on  the  roofs  of  the  jail  and  the  adjacent 
buildings  indistinct  figures  stalked  to  and  fro  in  the  misty 
moonlight. 

All  next  day,  which  was  Monday,  headquarters  remained 
inscrutable.  Small  activities  went  forward.  Guards  and  pa 
trols  were  changed.  The  cannon  was  brought  from  before  the. 

325 


326  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

jail.  Early  in  the  day  a  huge  crowd  gathered,  packing  the 
adjacent  streets,  watching  patiently  far  into  the  night  to  see 
what  would  happen.  Nothing  happened. 

But  about  the  city  at  large  patrols  of  armed  men  moved  on 
mysterious  business.  Gun  shops  were  picketed,  and  their  owners 
forbidden  to  sell  weapons.  Evidently  the  committee  was  carry 
ing  out  a  considered  plan. 

Toward  evening  the  weather  thickened  and  a  rain  came  on. 
It  turned  colder.  Still  the  crowd  did  not  disperse.  It  stood 
in  its  sodden  shoes,  hugging  its  sodden  cloaks  to  its  shoulders, 
humped  over,  waiting.  About  eight  o'clock  several  companies 
in  rigid  marching  formation  appeared.  A  stir  of  interest 
shivered  through  the  crowd,  but  died  as  it  became  evident  that 
this  was  only  a  general  relief  for  those  on  duty  during  the  day. 
At  midnight,  or  thereabouts,  the  crowd  went  home;  but  again 
by  first  daylight  the  streets  for  blocks  were  jammed  full.  Still 
it  rained  with  a  sullen  persistence.  Still  nothing  happened. 

And  all  over  the  city  business  was  practically  at  a  stand. 
Knots  of  men  stood  conferring  on  every  corner.  Conversation 
in  mixed  company  was  very  wary  indeed.  No  man  dared  ex 
press  himself  too  openly.  The  courts  were  empty.  Some  act 
ually  closed,  on  one  excuse  or  another,  but  most  went  through 
a  form  of  business.  Some  judges  took  the  occasion  to  go  to 
White  Sulphur  Springs  on  vacations,  long  contemplated,  they 
said.  These  things  occasioned  lively  comment.  It  was  gener 
ally  known  that  the  Sacramento  steamer  of  the  evening  before 
had  carried  several  hundred  passengers,  all  with  pressing  busi 
ness  at  the  capitol,  or  somewhere  else.  As  our  chronicler  tells 
it:  "A  good  many  who  had  things  on  their  minds  left  for  the 
country."  Still  it  rained;  still  the  crowd  waited;  still  the  head 
quarters  of  the  Committee  of  Vigilance  remained  closed  and 
inscrutable. 


LXIV 

DURING  all  this  time  the  Executive  Committee  sat 
in  continuous  session,  for  it  had  been  agreed  that  no 
recess  of  more  than  thirty  minutes  should  be  taken  un 
til  a  decision  had  been  reached.  The  room  in  which  they  sat 
was  a  large  one,  lighted  by  windows  on  one  side  only.  Coleman 
sat  behind  a  raised  desk  at  one  end.  Below  it  stood  a  small 
table  accommodating  two.  On  either  side  six  small  tables  com 
pleted  three  sides  of  a  hollow  square.  No  ornament,  no  especial 
comforts — the  desk,  the  thirteen  pine  tables,  the  twenty-eight  pine 
chairs,  the  wooden  walls,  the  oil  lamps,  the  four  long  windows — 
that  was  all. 

The  prisoners,  who,  when  they  had  seen  the  thousands  before 
the  jail,  had  expected  nothing  less  than  instant  execution  by 
lynch  law,  began  to  take  heart.  After  a  man  has  faced  what 
he  thinks  is  the  prospect  of  immediate  and  unavoidable  death, 
such  treatment  as  this  arouses  real  hope.  The  prisoners  were 
strictly  guarded  and  closely  confined,  it  is  true,  but  they  under 
stood  they  were  to  have  a  fair  trial  "according  to  law."  That 
last  phrase  cheered  them  immensely.  They  knew  the  law. 
Nor  were  they  entirely  cut  off  from  the  outside.  Casey  was 
allowed  to  see  several  men  in  regard  to  certain  pressing  business 
matters,  and  was  permitted  to  talk  to  them  freely,  although 
always  in  the  presence  of  a  member  of  the  committee.  Cora 
received  visits  from  Belle.  She  had  spent  thousands  in  his 
legal  defence;  now  she  came  to  see  him  faithfully,  and  tried 
to  cheer  him,  but  was  plainly  cowed.  Her  self-control  had 
vanished.  She  clung  to  him  passionately,  weeping.  He  was 
forced  to  what  should  have  been  her  role;  and  in  cheering  her 
he  managed  to  gain  a  modicum  of  self-confidence  for  himself. 
She  left  him  at  midnight,  much  reassured. 

327 


328  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

But  on  Monday  morning  Cora's  cell  door  was  tnrown  open, 
and  he  was  motioned  forth  by  a  grave  man,  who  conducted  him 
through  echoing  gloomy  corridors  to  the  committee  room,  where 
he  was  left  facing  the  tables  and  the  men  who  sat  behind  them. 
Cora's  natural  buoyancy  vanished.  The  men  before  him  met 
his  gaze  with  rigid,  unbending  solemnity.  The  rain  beat  mourn 
fully  against  the  windows,  blurring  the  glass,  casting  the  high 
apartment  in  a  half  gloom.  Nobody  moved  or  spoke.  All 
looked  at  him.  The  echo  of  his  footsteps  died,  and  the  room  was 
cast  in  stillness  except  for  the  soft  dashing  of  the  storm. 

"Charles  Cora,"  at  last  pronounced  Coleman  in  measured 
tones,  "you  are  here  on  trial  for  your  life,  accused  with  the  mur 
der  of  United  States  Marshal  Richardson." 

Cora,  who  was  a  plucky  man,  had  recovered  his  wits.  He 
must  have  realized  that  he  was  in  a  tight  place,  but  he  kept  his 
head  admirably.  His  demeanour  took  on  alertness,  his  manner 
throughout  was  respectful,  and  his  voice  low. 

"  Do  I  get  no  counsel?  "  he  inquired. 

"Counsel  will  be  given  you." 

He  put  in  an  earnest  plea  for  counsel  outside  the  tribunal — im 
partial  counsel. 

"Our  members  are  impartial,"  Coleman  told  him. 

Cora  hesitated,  looking  about  him. 

"If  Mr.  Truett  will  act  for  me,"  he  suggested;  "and  I  beg  you 
earnestly,  gentlemen,  that  the  excitement  of  the  time  may  not 
be  prejudicial  to  my  interests,  that  I  may  have  a  chance  for  my 
life!" 

"Your  trial  will  be  fair,"  he  was  assured. 

"^  shall  undertake  the  defence,"  Truett  agreed  briefly;  "and 
petition  that  Mr.  Smiley  be  appointed  as  my  assistant." 

This  being  granted,  the  three  men  drew  one  side  for  a  con 
sultation.  In  a  short  time  Truett  handed  to  the  sergeant-at- 
arms— the  same  man  who  had  conducted  Cora  to  the  tribunal 
—a  list  of  the  witnesses  Cora  wished  to  summon.  These  were  at 
once  sought  by  a  subcommittee  outside.  In  the  meantime,  wit 
nesses  for  the  prosecution  were  one  by  one  admitted,  sworn,  and 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  329 

examined.  All  ordinary  forms  of  law  were  closely  followed.  All 
essential  facts  were  separately  brought  out.  It  was  the  historic 
Cora  trial  over  again,  with  one  difference — gone  were  the  tech 
nical  delays.  By  dusk  Keith,  who  had  been  called  at  three,  had 
all  but  completed  the  long  tale  of  his  testimony,  had  finished 
recounting,  not  only  what  he  had  seen  of  the  quarrel  and  the 
subsequent  shooting,  but  also  a  detailed  account  of  the  trial,  the 
adverse  influences  brought  to  bear  on  the  prosecution,  and  his 
investigations  into  the  question  of  "  undue  influence."  No 
attempt  was  made  to  confine  the  investigation  to  the  technical 
trial. 

Keith  was  the  last  witness  for  the  prosecution.  And  the  wit 
nesses  for  the  defence,  where  were  they?  Of  the  list  submitted 
by  Cora  not  one  could  be  found!  In  hiding,  afraid,  the  per 
jurers  would  not  appear! 

The  dusk  was  falling  in  earnest  now.  The  corners  of  the 
room  were  in  darkness.  Beneath  Coleman's  desk  Bluxome,  the 
secretary,  had  lighted  an  oil  lamp  the  better  to  see  his  notes.  In 
the  interest  of  Keith's  testimony  the  general  illumination  had  not 
been  ordered.  Outside  the  tiny  patch  of  yellow  light  the  men  of 
Vigilance  sat  motionless,  listening,  their  shadows  dim  and  huge 
against  the  wall. 

The  door  opened,  and  Charles  Doane,  the  Grand  Marshal  of 
the  Vigilantes,  advanced  three  steps  into  the  room. 

"Mr.  President,"  he  said  clearly,  his  voice  cutting  the  still 
ness,  "I  am  instructed  to  announce  that  James  King  of  William 
is  dead." 


LXV 

THURSDAY  noon  was  set  for  the  funeral  of  the  man  who 
had  given  his  life  that  a  city  might  live.  In  the  room 
where  he  had  made  his  brave  fight  against  death  he  now 
lay  in  state.  On  Wednesday  ten  thousand  people  visited  him 
there.  Early  Thursday  morning  his  remains  were  transferred  to 
the  Unitarian  Church  where,  early  as  it  was,  a  great  multitude 
had  gathered  to  do  him  honour.  Now  through  the  long  morning 
hours  it  sat  with  him  silently.  The  church  was  soon  filled  to  over 
flowing;  the  streets  in  all  directions  became  crowded  with  sober- 
faced  men  and  women.  They  knew  they  would  be  unable  to  get 
into  the  church,  to  attend  nearer  his  last  communionwith  his  fel- 
lowmen,but  they  stayed,  feeling  vaguely  that  their  mere  presence 
helped— as,  indeed,  perhaps  it  did.  Marching  bodies  from  every 
guild  or  society  in  the  city  stood  in  rank  after  rank,  extending 
down  the  street  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach.  Hundreds  of  horse 
men,  carriages,  foot  marchers,  quietly,  orderly,  were  already  get 
ting  into  line.  They,  too,  were  excluded  from  the  funeral  cere 
monies  by  lack  of  room;  they,  too,  waited  to  do  honour  to  the 
cortege.  This  procession  was  over  two  miles  in  length.  Each 
man  wore  a  band  of  crSpe  around  his  left  arm.  The  time  set  for 
the  funeral  ceremony  was  yet  hours  distant. 

It  seemed  that  all  the  city  must  be  there.  But  those  who, 
hurrying  to  the  scene,  had  occasion  to  pass  near  the  Vigilante 
headquarters  found  the  vacant  square  guarded  on  all  sides  by  a 
triple  line  of  armed  men.  The  side  streets,  also,  were  filled 
with'them.  They  stood  in  exact  alignment,  rigid,  bayonets  fixed, 
their  eyes  straight  ahead.  Three  thousand  of  them  were  there. 
Hour  after  hour  they  stood,  untiring,  staring  at  the  building, 
which  gave  no  sign;  just  as  the  other  multitude,  only  a  few 

330 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  331 

squares  away,  stood  hour  after  hour,  patiently  waiting  in  the 
bright  sun. 

At  quarter  before  one  the  upper  windows  of  the  headquarters 
building  were  thrown  open,  and  small  platforms,  extending 
about  three  feet,  were  thrust  from  two  of  them.  An  instant 
later  two  heavy  beams  were  shoved  out  from  the  flat  roof  directly 
over  the  platforms.  From  the  ends  of  the  beams  dangled 
nooses  of  rope.  A  dead  wait  ensued.  Across  the  silence  could 
be  heard  faintly  from  the  open  windows  of  the  distant  church  the 
chords  of  an  organ,  the  rise  and  fall  of  a  hymn,  then  the  measured 
cadence  of  oration.  The  funeral  sendees  had  begun. 

As  though  this  were  a  signal,  the  blinds  that  had  partly  closed 
the  window  openings  were  swung  back,  and  Charles  Cora  was 
conducted  to  the  end  of  one  of  the  little  platforms.  His  face  was 
covered  with  a  white  handkerchief,  and  his  arms  and  legs  were 
bound  with  cords.  The  attendant  adjusted  the  noose,  then  left 
him.  An  instant  later  Casey  appeared.  He  had  petitioned  not 
to  be  blindfolded,  so  his  face  was  bare.  Cora  stood  bolt  upright, 
motionless  as  a  stone.  Casey's  nerve  had  left  him;  his  face 
was  pale  and  his  eyes  bloodshot.  As  the  attendant  placed  the 
noose,  the  murderer's  eyes  darted  here  and  there  over  the  square. 
Did  he  still  expect  that  the  boastful  promises  of  his  friends  would 
be  fulfilled,  did  he  still  hope  for  rescue?  If  so,  that  hope  must 
have  died  as  he  looked  down  on  those  set,  grim  faces  staring 
straight  ahead,  on  that  sinister  ring  of  steel.  He  began  to  babble. 

"  Gentlemen ! "  he  cried  at  them,  "  I  am  not  a  murderer !  I  do 
not  feel  afraid  to  meet  my  God  on  a  charge  of  murder!  I  have 
done  nothing  but  what  I  thought  was  right!  To-morrow  let  no 
editor  dare  call  me  a  murderer !  Whenever  I  was  injured  I  have 
resented  it.  It  has  been  part  of  my  education  during  twenty- 
nine  years!  Gentlemen,  I  forgive  you  this  persecution!  O 
God !  My  poor  mother !  O  God ! " 

Not  one  word  of  contrition;  not  one  word  for  the  man  who  lay 
yonder  in  the  church;  not  one  syllable  for  the  heartbroken  wife 
kneeling  at  the  coffin !  He  ceased.  And  his  words  went  out  into 
the  void  and  found  no  echo  against  that  wall  of  steel. 


332  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

They  waited.  For  what?  Across  the  intervening  housetops 
the  sound  of  speaking  ceased  to  carry.  The  last  orator  had 
given  place.  At  the  door  of  the  sanctuary  was  visible  a  slight 
commotion:  the  coffin  was  being  carried  out.  It  was  placed  in 
the  hearse.  Every  head  was  bared.  There  ensued  a  slight 
pause;  then  from  overhead  the  great  bell  boomed  once.  Another 
bell  in  the  next  block  answered.  A  third,  more  distant,  chimed 
in.  From  all  parts  of  the  city  tolled  the  solemn  requiem. 

At  the  first  stroke  the  long  cortege  moved  forward  toward  Lone 
Mountain;  at  the  first  stroke  the  Vigilantes,  as  one  man,  pre 
sented  arms;  at  the  first  stroke  the  platforms  dropped,  and  Casey 
and  Cora  fell  into  the  abyss  of  eternity. 


LXVI 

THIS  execution  occasioned  a  great  storm  of  indignation 
among  the  adherents  of  law  and  order.  Serious-minded 
men,  like  Judge  Shattuck,  admitted  the  essential  justice 
rendered,  but  condemned  strongly  the  method. 

"Of  course  they  were  murderers,"  cried  the  judge,  "and  of 
course  they  should  have  been  hung,  and  of  course  the  city  is 
better  off  without  either  of  them.  I'm  not  afraid  of  their  friends, 
and  I  don't  care  who  knows  what  I  think!  And  some  very 
worthy  citizens,  wrongly,  are  involved  in  this,  some  citizens 
whom  otherwise  I  greatly  respect.  It  is  better  that  a  hundred 
criminals  should  escape  than  that  the  whole  law  of  California 
should  be  outraged  by  an  act  that  denies  at  once  the 
value  and  the  authority  of  our  government.  The  energy,  the 
talent  for  organization,  that  this  committee  has  displayed  in  the 
exercise  of  usurped  authority,  might  have  been  directed  in  aid  of 
the  courts,  consistently  with  the  constitution  and  the  laws,  with 
equal  if  not  greater  efficiency." 

But  very  few  were  able  to  see  it  in  this  calm  spirit.  The  ruling 
class,  the  "chivalry,"  the  best  element  of  the  city  had  been 
slapped  in  the  face.  And  by  whom?  By  a  lot  of  "  Yankee  shop 
keepers,"  assisted  by  renegades  like  Keith,  Talbot  Ward,  and 
others.  The  committee  was  a  lot  of  stranglers;  they  ought  to  be 
punished  as  murderers;  they  ought  to  be  shot  down,  egad,  as 
revolutionaries!  It  was  realized  that  street  shooting  had 
temporarily  become  unsafe;  otherwise,  there  is  no  doubt  that  the 
hotheads  would  have  gone  forth  deliberately  abrawling.  There 
were  many  threats  made  against  individuals,  many  condign — 
and  lawless — punishments  promised  them. 

As  an  undercurrent,  nowhere  expressed  or  even  acknowledged, 

333 


334  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

was  a  strong  feeling  of  relief.  Any  Law  and  Order  man  would 
have  fought  at  the  mere  suggestion;  but  every  one  of  them  felt  it. 
After  all,  the  law  had  been  surprised  and  overpowered.  It  had 
yielded  only  to  overwhelming  odds.  With  the  execution  of  Cora 
and  Casey  accomplished,  the  committee  might  be  expected  to  dis 
band.  And,  of  course,  when  it  did  disband,  then  the  law  would 
have  its  innings.  Its  forces  would  be  better  organized  and  con 
solidated,  its  power  assured.  It  could  then  apprehend  and  bring 
to  justice  the  ringleaders  of  this  unwarranted  undertaking.  Like 
dogs  at  the  heels  of  a  retreating  foe,  the  hotheads  became  bolder 
as  this  secret  conviction  gained  strength.  They  were  in  favour 
of  using  an  armed  force  to  take  Coleman  and  his  fellow-con 
spirators  into  the  custody  of  the  law.  Calmer  spirits  held  this 
scheme  in  check. 

"Let  them  have  rope,"  advised  Blatchford.  "I  know  mobs. 
Now  that  they've  hung  somebody,  their  spirit  will  die  down. 
Give  them  a  few  days." 

But  to  the  surprise  and  indignation  of  these  people,  the 
Vigilantes  showed  no  signs  of  an  intention  to  disband.  On  the 
contrary,  their  activities  extended,  and  their  organization 
tightened.  The  various  companies  drilled  daily  until  they  went 
through  evolutions  and  the  manual  of  arms  with  all  the  per 
fection  of  regular  troops.  The  committee's  books  remained 
open;  by  the  last  of  the  week  over  seven  thousand  men  had 
signed  the  rolls.  Vanloads  of  furniture  and  various  supplies 
were  backed  up  before  the  doors  of  headquarters,  and  were 
carried  within  by  members  of  the  organization— no  non-member 
ever  saw  the  inside  of  the  building  while  it  was  occupied  by  the 
Vigilantes.  The  character  of  these  furnishing?  and  supplies 
would  seem  to  argue  an  intention  of  permanence.  Stoves,  cook 
ing  utensils,  cot  beds,  provisions,  blankets,  bulletin  boards,  arms, 
chairs,  tables,  field  guns,  ammunition,  were  only  some  items. 
Doorkeepers  were  always  in  attendance.  Sentinels  patrolled  the 
streets  and  the  roof.  The  great  warehouse  took  on  an  exceedingly 
animated  appearance. 

The  Executive  Committee  was  in  session  all  of  each  day.    It 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  33? 

became  known  that  a  "black  list"  of  some  sort  was  in  prepara 
tion.  On  the  heels  of  this  orders  came  for  the  Vigilante  police, 
instructing  them  to  arrest  certain  men  and  to  warn  certain  others 
to  leave  town  immediately.  It  was  evident  that  a  clean  sweep 
was  contemplated. 

Among  the  first  of  those  arrested  was  the  notorious  Yankee 
Sullivan,  an  ex-prize  fighter,  ward  heeler,  ballot-box  stuffer,  and 
shoulder  striker.  He  had  always  been  a  pillar  of  strength  to 
those  engaged  in  corrupt  practices.  This  man  went  to  pieces 
completely.  He  confessed  the  details  of  many  of  his  own  crimes 
but,  what  was  more  important,  implicated  many  others  as  well. 
His  testimony  was  invaluable,  not  necessarily  as  final  proof 
against  those  whom  he  accused,  but  as  indications  for  thorough 
investigations.  Finally,  unexpectedly,  he  committed  suicide  in 
his  cell.  It  seems  he  had  been  accustomed  to  from  sixty  to 
eighty  drinks  of  whiskey  a  day,  and  the  sudden,  complete  dep 
rivation  had  destroyed  him.  Warned  by  this,  the  committee 
henceforward  issued  regular  radons  of  whiskey  to  its  prisoners! 

Trials  in  due  order,  with  counsel  for  defence  and  ample  oppor 
tunity  to  call  witnesses,  went  on  briskly.  Those  who  anticipated 
more  hangings  were  disappointed.  It  became  known  that  the 
committee  had  set  for  itself  the  rule  that  capital  punishment 
would  be  inflicted  only  for  crimes  so  punishable  by  the  regular 
law.  But  each  outgoing  ship  carried  crowds  of  those  on  whom 
had  been  passed  the  sentence  of  banishment.  The  majority  of 
these  were,  of  course,  low  thugs,  "Sydney  ducks,"  hangers  on; 
but  a  very  large  proportion  were  taken  from  what  had  been 
known  as  the  city's  best.  In  the  law  courts  these  men  would  in 
many  cases  have  been  declared  as  white  as  the  driven  snow.  But 
they  were  undesirable  citizens;  the  committee  so  decided  them; 
and  bade  them  begone.  Charles  Duane,  Wooley  Kearney,  William 
Carr,  Edward  Bulger,  Philander  Brace,  William  McLean,  J.  D. 
Musgrave,  and  Peter  Wightman  were  well-known  and  influential 
names  found  on  the  "black  list."  Peter  Wightman,  James 
White,  and  our  old  friend,  Ned  McGowan,  ran  away.  Hundreds 
of  others  left  the  city.  A  terror  spread  among  the  ignorant  and 


336  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

vicious  of  the  underworld.  Some  of  the  minor  offenders  brought 
in  by  the  Vigilante  police  were  by  the  Executive  Committee 
turned  over  to  the  regular  law  courts.  Every  one  of  such  cases 
was  promptly  convicted  by  those  courts  / 

This  did  not  look  much  like  disbanding,  nor  did  any  opportunity 
for  wholesale  arrest  of  the  anarchists  seem  imminent  The  leaders 
of  the  Law  and  Order  faction  were  at  last  aroused. 

"This  is  more  than  anarchy;  it  is  revolution,"  said  Judge  Cald- 
well.  "  It  is  a  successful  revolution  because  it  is  organized.  The 
people  of  this  city  are  scattered  and  powerless.  They  in  turn 
should  be  organized  to  combat  the  forces  of  disorder.0 

In  pursuance  of  this  belief — that  the  public  at  large  needed 
only  to  be  called  together  in  order  to  defend  its  institutions — 
hand  bills  were  printed  and  newspaper  notices  published  calling  a 
meeting  for  June  2nd  in  Portsmouth  Square.  Elaborate  secret 
preparations,  involving  certain  distributions  of  armed  men, 
were  made  to  prevent  what  was  considered  certain  interference. 
This  was  useless.  Immediately  after  the  appearance  of  the 
notice  the  Committee  of  Vigilance  issued  orders  that  the  meeting 
was  in  no  manner  to  be  disturbed,  and  hung  out  placards 
reading: 

"Members  of  the  Vigilance  Committee:  Order  must  be 
maintained."  "Friends  of  the  Vigilance  Committee:  Keep 
out  of  the  Square,"  etc. 

The  meeting  was  well  attended.  Enormous  crowds  gathered, 
not  only  in  and  around  the  square  itself,  but  in  balconies  and 
windows  and  on  housetops.  It  was  a  ribald,  disrespectful  crowd, 
evidently  out  for  a  good  time,  calling  back  and  forth,  shouting 
question  or  comment  at  the  men  gathered  about  the  speaker's 
platform. 

"What  kind  of  a  circus  do  you  call  this  show,  anyway?" 
roared  a  huge,  bare-armed  miner  in  red  shirt. 

"This  is  the  Law  and  Murder  meeting,"  instantly  answered 
some  one  from  a  balcony. 

This  phrase  tickled  the  crowd  hugely.  The  words  were  passed 
from  man  to  man.  Eventually  they  became  the  stereotyped 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  337 

retort.  "  Stranglers ! "  sneered  one  faction.  "  Law  and  Murder!" 
flung  back  the  other. 

On  the  platform  stood  or  sat  the  owners  of  many  of  the  city's 
proud  names — judges,  jurists,  merchants,  holders  of  high 
political  office,  men  whose  influence  a  month  ago  had  been  para 
mount  and  irresistible.  Among  them  were  famed  orators,  men 
who  had  never  failed  to  hold  and  influence  a  crowd.  But  two 
hundred  feet  away  little  could  be  heard.  It  early  became  evident 
that,  though  there  would  be  no  interference,  the  sentiment  of  the 
croWd  was  against  them.  And,  what  was  particularly  madden 
ing,  the  sentiment  was  good-humoured.  Even  the  compliment 
of  being  taken  seriously  was  denied  them ! 

Colonel  Ed  Baker  came  forward  to  speak.  The  colonel's  gift 
of  eloquence  was  such  that,  in  spite  of  his  known  principles,  his 
lack  of  scruple,  his  insincerity,  he  won  his  way  to  a  picturesque 
popularity  and  fame.  Later  he  delivered  a  funeral  oration  over 
the  remains  of  David  Broderick  that  has  gone  far  to  invest  the 
memory  of  that  hard-headed,  venal,  unscrupulous  politician  with 
an  aura  of  romance.  But  the  crowd  would  have  little  of  him  this 
day.  An  almost  continuous  uproar  drowned  his  efforts.  Catch 
words  such  as  liberty,  constitution,  habeas  corpus,  trial  by  jury, 
freedom,  etc.,  occasionally  became  audible.  The  people  were 
not  interested. 

"See  Cora's  defender!"  cried  some  one,  voicing  the  general 
suspicion  that  Baker  had  been  one  of  the  little  gambler's  hidden 
counsel.  "Cora!"  "Ed  Baker!"  "Ten  thousand  dollars!" 
"  Out  of  that,  you  old  reprobate ! "  jeered  the  audience.  He  spoke 
ten  minutes  against  the  storm,  then  yielded,  red  faced  and  angry. 
Others  tried  in  vain.  A  Southerner  named  Benham,  while  deplor 
ing  passionately  the  condition  of  the  city  which  had  been  seized 
by  a  mob,  robbed  of  its  sacred  rights,  etc.,  happened  inadvert 
ently  to  throw  back  his  coat,  thus  revealing  the  butt  of  a  Colt's 
revolver.  The  bystanders  caught  the  point  at  once. 

"  There's  a  pretty  Law  and  Order  man ! "  they  shrieked.  "  Hey, 
Benham!  Don't  you  know  it's  against  the  law  to  go  armed?" 

"I  carry  this  weapon,"  shrieked  Benham,  passionately  shaking 


338  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

his  fist,  "not  as  an  instrument  to  overthrow  the  law,  but  to  up 
hold  it  I" 

A  clear,  steady  voice  from  a  nearby  balcony  made  itself  dis 
tinctly  heard: 

"In  other  words,  sir,  you  break  the  law  in  order  to  uphold  the 
law,"  it  said.  "What  more  are  the  Vigilantes  doing?" 

The  crowd  went  wild  over  this  repartee.  The  confusion  be 
came  worse.  Old  Judge  Campbell  was  thrust  forward,  in  the 
hope  that  his  age  and  his  senior  judgeship  would  command  re 
spect.  He  was  unable  to  utter  consecutive  sentences. 

"I  once  thought,"  he  interrupted  himself  piteously,  "that  I 
was  the  free  citizen  of  a  free  country,  but  recent  occurrences  have 
convinced  me  that  I  am  a  slave;  a  slave,  gentlemen,  more  a  slave 
than  any  on  a  Southern  plantation,  for  they  know  their  masters, 
but  I  know  not  mine! " 

But  his  auditors  refused  to  be  affected. 

"Oh,  yes,  you  do!"  they  informed  him.  "You  know  your 
masters  as  well  as  anybody — two  of  them  were  hung  the  other 
day!" 

After  this  the  meeting  broke  up.  The  most  ardent  Law  and 
Order  man  could  not  deny  that  as  a  popular  demonstration  it  had 
been  a  fizzle. 

But  if  this  attempt  at  home  to  gain  coherence  failed,  up  river 
the  partisans  had  better  luck.  A  hasty  messenger  with  tidings 
for  the  ear  of  the  Executive  Committee  only  was  followed  by 
rapidly  spreading  rumours.  Five  hundred  men  with  two  pieces 
of  artillery  were  coming  down  from  Sacramento  to  liberate  the 
prisoners,  especially  Billy  Mulligan,  or  die  in  the  attempt.  They 
were  reported  to  be  men  from  the  southeast:  Texans,  Carolin 
ians,  crackers  from  Pike  County,  all  fire-eaters,  reckless,  sure  to 
make  trouble.  Their  numbers  were  not  in  themselves  for 
midable,  but  every  man  knew  the  city  still  to  be  full  of  scattered 
warriors  needing  only  leaders  and  a  rallying  point.  The  ma 
terials  for  a  very  pretty  civil  war  were  laid  for  the  match.  An 
uneasiness  pervaded  headquarters,  not  for  the  outcome,  but  for 
the  unavoidable  fighting  and  bloodshed. 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  339 

Therefore,  when  Olney  hastily  entered  the  main  hall  early  in 
the  evening,  and  in  a  loud  voice  called  for  "two  hundred  men 
with  side  arms  for  especial  duty,"  there  was  a  veritable  scramble 
to  enlist.  Olney  picked  out  the  required  number,  selecting,  it 
was  afterward  noticed,  only  the  big  men  physically.  They  fell 
in,  and  were  marched  quickly  out  Market  Street.  It  was  dark. 
Expectations  were  high.  Just  beyond  Second  Street,  dimly 
visible  against  the  sky  or  in  the  faint  starlight,  they  saw  a 
mysterious  force  opposing  them,  men  on  foot,  horses,  the  wheels 
of  guns.  Each  man  gripped  his  revolver  and  set  his  teeth. 
Here,  evidently,  from  this  ordinarily  deserted  and  distant  part 
of  town,  a  flanking  attack  was  to  have  been  delivered.  As  they 
drew  nearer  they  made  out  wagons;  and  nearer  still — bale  upon 
bale  of  gunny  sacks,  and  shovels! 

The  truth  dawned  on  them,  and  a  great  laugh  went  up. 
"Sold!  Sold!  Sold!  "they  cried. 

But  they  set  to  work  with  a  will,  rilled  the  gunny  sacks  with 
sand,  piled  them  on  the  wagons;  and  so  by  morning  Fort  Gunny- 
bags,  as  headquarters  was  thenceforth  called,  came  into  exist 
ence.  Cannon  were  mounted,  breastworks  piled,  embrasures 
planned. 

The  five  hundred  fire-eaters  were  no  myth.  They  disembarked, 
greeted  lthe  horde  of  friends  who  had  come  to  meet  them, 
marched  to  Fort  Gunnybags,  looked  it  over,  thrust  their  hands 
in  their  pockets,  and  walked  peacefully  away  to  the  nearest  bar 
rooms! 

Wise  men.  By  now  the  Vigilante  dispositions  were  so  com 
plete  that  in  the  mere  interest  of  examining  so  sudden  yet  so 
thorough  an  organization,  a  paragraph  or  so  may  profitably  be 
spent  on  it.  Behind  headquarters  was  a  long  shed  stable  in  which 
were  to  be  found  at  all  hours  saddle  horses  and  artillery  horses, 
all  saddled  and  bridled,  ready  for  instant  use.  Twenty-six 
pieces  of  artillery,  mostly  sent  in  by  captains  of  merchant  vessels 
in  the  harbour,  were  here  parked.  Other  cannon  were  mounted 
for  the  defence  of  Fort  Gunnybags.  Muskets,  rifles,  and  sabres 
enough  to  arm  6,000  men  had  been  accumulated — and  there 


340  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

were  6,000  men  to  use  them!  A  French  portable  barricade  had 
been  constructed  in  the  event  of  possible  street  fighting,  a  sort 
of  wheeled  framework  that  could  be  transformed  into  litters  or 
scaling  ladders.  Sutlers'  offices  and  kitchens  could  feed  a  small 
army.  Flags  and  painted  signs  carrying  the  emblematic  open  eye 
of  vigilance  decorated  the  rooms,  A  huge  alarm  bell  had  been 
mounted  on  the  roof.  The  mattresses,  beds,  cots,  blankets,  and 
other  furniture  necessary  to  sleep  four  companies  on  the  premises 
had  been  provided.  A  completely  equipped  armourer's  shop  and 
a  hospital  with  all  supplies  occupied  the  third  story.  The 
forces  were  divided  into  four  companies  of  artillery,  one  squadron 
and  two  troops  of  cavalry,  four  regiments,  and  thirty-two 
companies  of  infantry;  besides  the  small  but  efficient  police 
organization.  A  tap  on  the  bell  gathered  these  men  in  an  in 
credibly  short  space  of  time.  "As  a  rule,"  says  Bancroft, 
"within  fifteen  minutes  from  the  time  the  bell  was  tapped,  on 
any  occasion,  seven  tenths  of  the  entire  Vigilante  forces  would  be 
in  their  places  armed  ready  for  battle." 

Another  corps,  not  as  heroic,  but  quite  as  necessary,  it  was 
found  advisable  to  appoint  The  sacking  of  which  Fort  Gunny- 
bags  was  made  was  of  very  coarse  texture.  When  dry,  the 
sand  filling  tended  to  run  out!  Therefore,  those  bags  had  to  be 
kept  constantly  wet,  and  somebody  had  to  do  it.  Enemies 
sneeringly  remarked  that  Fort  Gunnybags  consumed  much 
more  water  without  than  within;  but  this  joke  lost  its  point  when 
it  became  known  that  the  committee,  decades  in  advance  of  its 
period,  had  prohibited  alcohol  absolutely! 

Realizing  from  the  two  lamentable  fiascos  just  recounted  that 
little  could  be  accomplished  by  private  initiative,  the  upholders 
of  the  law  turned  their  attention  to  Sacramento.  Here  they  had 
every  reason  to  hope  for  success.  No  matter  how  well  organized 
the  Vigilantes  might  be,  or  how  thoroughly  they  carried  the 
sympathies  of  the  local  public,  there  could  be  no  doubt  that  they 
were  acting  in  defiance  of  the  law,  were,  in  fact,  no  better  than 
rebels.  It  was  not  only  within  the  power,  it  was  the  duty  of  the 
governor  of  the  State  to  declare  the  city  in  a  condition  of  in- 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  341 

surrection.  This  being  accomplished,  it  followed  logically  that 
the  State  troops  must  put  down  the  insurrection;  and  if  they 
failed,  there  was  still  the  immense  power  of  the  republic  to  call 
upon.  After  all,  when  you  look  at  it  that  way,  this  handful  of 
disturbers  amounted  to  very  little. 

The  first  step  was  to  win  over  the  governor.  Without  him 
the  next  step  could  not  be  taken.  Accordingly  all  the  big  guns 
of  San  Francisco  took  the  Senator  for  Sacramento.  There  they 
met  Terry,  Volney  Howard,  and  others  of  the  same  ilk.  No 
governor  of  Johnson's  sort  could  long  withstand  such  pressure. 
He  promised  to  issue  the  proclamation  of  insurrection  as  soon 
as  it  was  "  legally  proved"  that  the  committee  had  acted  outside 
the  law.  The  mere  fact  that  it  had  already  hanged  two  men  and 
deported  a  great  number  of  others  meant  nothing.  That, 
apparently,  was  not  legal  proof. 

In  order  that  all  things  should  be  legal,  then,  Terry  issued  a 
writ  of  habeas  corpus  for  the  body  of  one  William  Mulligan,  and 
gave  it  into  the  hands  of  Deputy-sheriff  Harrison  for  service  oh 
the  committee.  Nobody  expected  the  latter  to  deliver  over 
Mulligan. 

"But  they'll  deny  the  writ,"  said  Terry,  "and  that  will  consti 
tute  a  legal  defiance  of  the  State.  The  governor  will  then  be 
legally  justified  in  issuing  his  proclamation,  and  ordering  out  the 
State  troops  to  enforce  the  writ." 

If  the  State  troops  proved  inadequate,  the  plan  was  then  to 
call  on  the  United  States — as  locally  represented  by  General 
Wool  and  Captain  David  Farragut — for  assistance.  With  this 
armed  backing  three  times  the  Vigilante  force  could  be  quickly 
subdued.  As  it  was  all  legal,  it  could  not  fail. 

Harrison  took  the  writ  of  habeas  corpus  and  proceeded  to  San 
Francisco.  He  presented  himself  at  headquarters,  produced 
his  writ,  and  had  himself  announced  to  the  Executive  Committee 
then  in  session. 

"Tell  him  to  go  to  hell!"  growled  some  one. 

But  a  half-dozen  members  saw  through  the  ruse,  and  inter 
posed  vigorous  objections. 


342  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

"I  move,"  said  Dempster  solemnly,  "that  our  police  be  per 
mitted  to  remove  all  prisoners  for  a  few  hours." 

This  was  carried,  and  put  into  immediate  effect.  Deputy 
Harrison  was  then  politely  received,  his  writ  fully  acknowledged, 
and  he  was  allowed  to  search  the  premises.  Of  course  he  found 
nothing,  and  departed  much  crestfallen.  The  scheme  had  failed. 
The  committee  had  in  no  way  denied  his  authority  or  his  writ. 
Harrison  was  no  fool.  He  saw  clearly  what  he  had  been  expected 
to  do.  On  his  way  back  to  Sacramento  he  did  some  thinking. 
To  Terry  he  unblushingly  returned  the  writ  endorsed:  "Pre 
vented  from  service  by  armed  men."  For  the  sake  of  the  cause 
Harrison  had  lied ! 

Johnson  immediately  issued  his  proclamation.  The  leaders 
turned  with  confidence  to  the  Federal  authorities  for  assistance. 
To  their  blank  dismay  General  Wool  refused  to  furnish  arms. 
His  position  was  that  he  had  no  authority  to  do  so  without  orders 
from  Washington.  The  sympathies  of  this  doughty  old  soldier 
were  not  with  this  attempt.  Colonel  Baker  and  Volney  Howard 
waited  on  him,  and  after  considerable  conversation  made  the 
mistake  of  threatening  to  report  him  to  Washington  for  refus 
ing  to  uphold  the  law. 

"I  think,  gentlemen,"  flashed  back  the  veteran,  "I  know  my 
duty,  and  in  its  performance  dread  no  responsibility." 

So  saying  he  bowed  them  from  the  room.  Farragut  equally 
could  not  clearly  see  why  he  should  train  the  guns  of  his  ship 
on  the  city.  With  this  fiasco  the  opposition  for  the  mo 
ment  died.  The  Executive  Committee  went  on  patiently  work 
ing  down  through  its  black  list.  It  announced  that  after  June 
24th  no  new  cases  would  be  taken.  A  few  days  later  it  pro 
claimed  an  "adjournment  parade"  on  July  5th.  It  considered 
its  work  done.  The  city  had  become  safe. 


LXVII 

BUT  this  peaceful  outcome  did  not  suit  the  aristocratic 
wing  of  the  Law  and  Order  party  in  the  least.  The 
haughty,  supremely  individualistic,  bold,  forceful,  often 
charming  coterie  of  fire-eaters  had,  in  their  opinion,  been  in 
sulted,  and  they  wanted  reprisal,  punishment,  blood.  Terry, 
Baker,  Bennett,  Miles,  Webb,  Nugent,  Blatchford,  Rowlee, 
Caldwell,  Broderick,  Ware,  Volney  Howard,  Black — to  mention 
only  a  few — chafed  intolerably.  Such  men  were  accustomed  to 
have  their  own  way,  to  cherish  an  ultra-sensitive  "honour,"  to 
be  looked  up  to;  had  come  to  consider  themselves  as  especially 
privileged,  to  look  upon  themselves  as  direct  representatives  of 
the  only  proper  government  and  administration  of  law.  This  re 
volt  of  the  "lower  classes,"  the  "smug,  psalm-singing  Yankees," 
the  "shopkeepers,"  was  intolerable  impudence.  Because  of  a 
series  of  accidents,  proper  resentment  of  such  impudence,  due 
punishment  of  such  denial  of  the  law  had  been  postponed.  It 
was  not,  therefore,  abrogated. 

When,  therefore,  the  committee  announced  July  5th  as  a 
definite  date  for  disbanding,  the  lawful  authorities  and  their  up 
holders,  blinded  by  their  passions,  were  distinctly  disappointed. 
Where  the  common  citizen  perceived  only  the  welcome  end  of 
a  necessary  job  well  done,  they  saw  slipping  away  the  last  chance 
for  a  clash  of  arms  that  should  teach  these  rebels  their  place. 
It  was  all  very  well  to  talk  of  arresting  the  ringleaders  and  bring 
ing  them  to  justice.  In  the  present  lamentable  demoralization 
of  the  courts  it  might  not  work;  and  even  if  it  did  work,  the 
punishment  of  ringleaders  was  small  satisfaction  as  compared 
to  triumphant  vindication  in  pitched  battle. 

Sherman  had  resigned  command  of  the  military  in  disgust 

343 


344  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

when  he  found  that  General  Wool  and  Captain  Farragut  had 
no  intention  of  supplying  him  Federal  arms,  thus  closing — save 
for  later  inaccurate  writing  in  his  "  Memoirs" — an  unfortunate 
phase  of  his  career.  In  his  stead  had  been  chosen  General 
Volney  Howard.  Howard  was  a  rather  fat,  very  pompous, 
wholly  conceited  bombastes  furioso  with  apparently  remarkable 
lack  of  judgment  or  grasp  of  a  situation.  In  the  committee's 
action  looking  toward  adjournment  he  actually  thought  he  saw 
a  sign  of  weakening! 

"Now  is  the  moment  for  us  to  show  our  power !"  he 
said. 

In  this  he  gained  the  zealous  support  of  Judge  Terry  and  Major 
Marmaduke  Miles,  two  others  with  more  zeal  than  discretion. 
These  three  managed  to  persuade  Governor  Johnson  to  order  a 
parade  of  State  troops  in  the  streets  of  San  Francisco.  Their 
argument  was  that  such  a  parade — of  legally  organized  forces — 
would  overawe  the  citizens;  their  secret  hope,  however,  was  that 
such  a  show  would  provoke  the  desired  conflict.  This  hope  they 
shared  with  Howard,  after  the  governor's  order  had  been  ob 
tained.  Howard's  vanity  and  inclinations  jumped  together. 
He  consented.  Altogether,  it  was  a  very  pretty  little  plot. 

By  now  the  Law  and  Order  forces  had  become  numerically 
formidable.  The  bobtail  and  rag-tag,  ejected  either  by  force  or 
by  fright,  flocked  to  the  colours.  A  certain  proportion  of  the 
militia  remained  in  the  ranks,  though  a  majority  had  resigned 
A  large  contingent  of  reckless,  wild  young  men,  without  a  care  or 
a  tie  in  the  world,  with  no  interest  in  the  rights  of  the  case,  or, 
indeed,  in  themselves,  avid  only  for  adventure,  offered  them 
selves  as  soon  as  the  prospects  for  a  real  fight  became  good.  And 
there  were  always  the  five  hundred  discomfited  Texans. 

Nor  were  arms  now  lacking.  Contrary  to  all  expectation, 
the  committee  had  scrupulously  refrained  from  meddling  with 
the  State  armouries.  All  militia  muskets  were  available.  In 
addition  the  State  had  now  the  right  to  a  certain  quota  of  Federal 
arms,  stored  in  the  arsenal  at  Benicia.  These  could  be  requi 
sitioned. 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  345 

At  this  point  in  the  planning  weasly  little  Jimmy  Ware  had  a 
bright  idea. 

"Look  here!"  he  cried,  "how  many  of  those  Benicia  muskets 
are  there?" 

"About  a  hundred  and  fifty  stand,  sir,"  Howard  told  him. 

"Now  they  can't  help  us  a  whole  lot,"  propounded  Ware. 
"They  are  too  few.  But  why  can't  we  use  them  for  bait,  to 
get  those  people  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  fence?" 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Terry,  who  knew  Ware  inti 
mately. 

"Suppose  they  are  shipped  from  Benicia  to  the  armouries  in 
the  city;  they  are  legally  Federal  property  until  they  are  delivered, 
aren't  they?" 

"Certainly." 

"Well,  if  the  Stranglers  should  happen  to  seize  them  while 
they're  still  Federal  property,  they've  committed  a  definite 
offence  against  the  United  States,  haven't  they?  " 

"What  do  we  care  about  that  now?"  asked  Major  Marma- 
duke  Miles,  to  whom  this  seemed  irrelevant. 

But  Judge  Terry's  legal  mind  was  struck  with  the  beauty  and 
simplicity  of  this  ruse. 

"Hold  on! "  he  cried.  "If  we  ship  them  in  a  boat,  the  seizure 
will  be  piracy.  If  they  intercept  those  arms,  they're  pirates, 
and  we  can  legally  call  on  the  Federal  forces — and  they'll  be 
compelled  to  respond,  egad!" 

" They're  pretty  smart;  suppose  they  smell  a  rat?"  asked 
Miles  doubtfully. 

"Then  we'll  have  the  muskets  where  we  want  them,  anyway. 
It's  worth  trying,"  replied  Ware. 

"I  know  just  the  man,"  put  in  Terry.     "I'll  send  for  him." 

Shortly  appeared  a  saturnine,  lank,  bibulous  individual 
known  as  Rube  Maloney.  To  him  Terry  explained.  He  was 
to  charter  a  sloop,  take  the  muskets  aboard — and  get  caught. 

"No  resistance,  mind  you!"  warned  Terry. 

"Trust  me  for  that,"  grinned  Rube.  "I  ain't  anxious  for  no 
punctured  skin,  nor  yit  a  stretched  neck." 


346  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

"Pick  your  men  carefully." 

"I'll  take  Jack  Phillips  and  Jim  McNab,"  said  Rube,  after  a 
moment's  thought,  "and  possibly  a  few  refreshments?"  he 
suggested. 

Terry  reached  into  his  pocket. 

"Certainly,  certainly,"  said  he,     "Treat  yourself  well." 

There  remained  only  to  see  that  the  accurate  details  should  get 
to  the  Committee  of  Vigilance,  but  in  such  a  manner  as  to  avoid 
suspicion  that  the  information  had  been  "planted." 

"Is  there  anybody  we  can  trust  on  their  rolls?"  asked  Terry. 

But  it  was  reluctantly  conceded  that  the  Vigilantes  had  pretty 
well  cleaned  out  the  doubtful  ones.  Here  again  the  resourceful 
Jimmy  Ware  came  to  the  rescue. 

"  I  know  your  man — Morrell.  He'll  get  it  to  them.  As  far  as 
anybody  knows,  he  hasn't  taken  sides  at  all." 

"Will  you  see  him?"  asked  Terry. 

"I'll  see  him,"  promised  Jimmy  Ware. 


LXVIII 

BY  THIS  time  the  Vigilante  organization  had  pretty  well 
succeeded  in  eliminating  the  few  Law  and  Order  sympa 
thizers  who  had  been  bold  enough  to  attempt  to  play  the 
part  of  spy  by  signing  the  rolls.  These  had  not  been  many,  and 
their  warning  had  been  sufficient.  But  Morrell  had,  in  a  measure, 
escaped  distrust  even  if  he  had  not  gained  confidence.  He  had 
had  the  sense  not  to  join  the  organization;  and  his  attitude  of  the 
slightly  supercilious,  veiledly  contemptuous  Britisher,  scorning 
all  things  about  him,  was  sufficient  guarantee  of  his  neutrality. 
This  breed  was  then  very  common.  He  left  his  conference  with 
Jimmy  Ware  thoroughly  instructed,  quite  acquiescent,  but  revolv 
ing  matters  in  his  own  mind  to  see  if  somehow  he  could  not  turn 
them  to  his  advantage.  For  Morrell  was,  as  always,  in  need  of 
money.  In  addition,  he  had  a  personal  score  to  settle  with  Keith 
for,  although  he  had  apparently  forgotten  their  last  interview  re 
garding  "  loans,"  the  memory  rankled.  And  Morrell  had  not  for 
gotten  that  before  all  this  Vigilante  business  broke  he  had  been 
made  a  good  offer  by  Cora's  counsel  to  get  Keith  out  of  the  way. 
Cora  was  now  very  dead,  to  be  sure;  but  on  sounding  Jimmy 
Ware,  Morrell  learned  that  Keith's  removal  would  still  be  pleas 
ant  to  the  powers  that  pay. 

If  he  could  work  these  things  all  in  together Cogitating 

absorbedly,  he  glanced  up  to  see  Ben  Sansome  sauntering  down 
the  street,  his  malacca  cane  at  the  proper  angle,  his  cylindrical  hat 
resting  lightly  on  his  sleek  locks,  his  whole  person  spick  with 
the  indescribably  complete  appointment  of  the  dandy.  Sansome 

was  mixed  up  with  the  Keiths — perhaps  he  could  be  used 

On  impulse  Morrell  hailed  him  genially,  and  invited  him  to  take  a 
drink.  The  exquisite  brightened,  and  perceptibly  hastened  his 

347 


348  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

step.  MorrelPs  rather  ultra- Anglicism  always  fascinated  him, 
They  turned  in  at  the  El  Dorado,  and  there  seated  themselves  at 
the  most  remote  of  the  small  tables. 

"Well,"  said  Morrell  cheerfully,  after  preliminary  small  talk 
had  been  disposed  of,  "how  goes  the  fair  Nancy?" 

Sansome's  effeminately  handsome  face  darkened.  Things  had 
in  reality  gone  very  badly  with  the  fair  Nancy.  Her  revulsion 
against  Sansome  at  the  time  of  the  capture  of  the  jail  had  been 
complete;  and,  as  is  the  case  with  real  revulsions,  she  had  not 
attempted  to  conceal  it.  Sansome's  careful  structure,  which  had 
gained  so  lofty  an  elevation,  had  collapsed  like  the  proverbial 
house  of  cards.  His  vanity  had  been  cruelly  rasped.  And  what 
had  been  more  or  less  merely  a  dilettante's  attraction  had  been 
thereby  changed  into  a  thwarted  passion. 

"Damn  the  fair  Nancy!"  he  cried,  in  answer  to  Morrell's 
question. 

Morrell's  eyes  narrowed,  and  he  motioned  quietly  to  the 
waiting  black  to  replenish  the  glasses. 

"With  all  my  heart,  damn  her!  "  said  he.  "I  agree  with  you; 
she's  a  snippy,  cold  little  piece.  Not  my  style  at  aU.  Not  worth 
the  serious  attention  of  a  man  like  yourself.  Who  is  it  now,  you 
sly  dog?" 

Sansome  sipped  at  his  drink;  sighed  sentimentally. 

"Cold— yes— but  if  the  right  man  could  awaken  her "  he 

murmured. 

"Look  here,  Sansome,  do  you  want  that  woman?" 

Sansome  looked  at  his  companion  haughtily;  his  eye  fell;  he 
drew  circles  with  the  bottom  of  his  glass. 

"By  gad!"  he  cried  with  a  sudden  queer  burst  of  fire;  "I've 
got  to  have  her!" 

And  then  he  turned  slowly  red,  actually  started  to  wriggle,  con 
cealed  his  embarrassment  under  cover  of  his  cigar. 

"H'm,"  observed  Morrell  speculatively,  without  looking 
across  at  Sansome.  "Tell  me,  Ben.  does  she  still  care  for  her 
husband?" 

"No;  that  I'll  swear!"  replied  Sansome  eagerly. 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  349 

"If  you're  sure  of  that  one  essential  little  fact,  and  you  really 
want  her,  why  don't  you  take  her?" 

"  Damn  it,  ain't  I  telling  you?    She  won't  see  me." 

"Tell  me  about  it,"  urged  Morrell,  settling  back,  and  again 
motioning  for  fresh  drinks. 

Sansome,  whose  soul  was  ripe  for  sympathy,  needed  little  more 
urging.  He  poured  out  his  tale,  sometimes  rushingly  and 
passionately,  again,  as  his  submerged  but  still  conventional  self- 
consciousness  struggled  to  the  surface,  with  shamefaced  bravado. 
"  By  Gad ! "  he  finished.  "  You  know,  I  feel  like  a  raw  schoolboy, 
talkin' like  this!" 

Morrell  leaned  forward,  his  reserve  of  manner  laid  aside,  his 
whole  being  radiating  sympathetic  charm. 

"My  dear  chap,  don't,"  he  begged,  laying  his  hand  on  San- 
some's  forearm.  "  A  genuine  passion  is  the  most  glorious  thing 
on  earth  even  in  callow  youth!  But  when  we  old  men  of  the 
world —  The  pause  was  eloquent.  "She's  a  headstrong 

filly,"  he  went  on  in  a  more  matter-of-fact  tone,  after  a  mom 
ent,  "  takes  a  bit  of  handling.  You'll  pardon  me,  old  chap,  if 
I  suggest  that  you've  gone  about  things  a  bit  wrong." 

"How  is  that?"  asked  Sansome.  Under  the  influence  of 
drinks,  confession,  and  sympathy,  he  was  in  a  glow  of  fellow- 
feeling. 

" Believe  me,  I  know  women  and  horses!  You've  ridden  this 
one  too  much  on  the  snaffle.  Try  the  curb.  That  high-spirited 
sort  takes  a  bit  of  handling.  They  like  to  feel  themselves  domi 
nated.  You've  been  too  gentle,  too  refined.  She's  gentle  and 
refined  for  two.  What  she  wants  is  the  brute — "  Rape  of  the 
Sabines ' '  principle.  Savage  her  a  bit,  and  she'll  come  to  heel  like  a 
dog.  Not  at  once,  perhaps.  Give  her  a  week." 

"That's  all  very  well,"  objected  Sansome,  whose  eyes  were 
shining,  "but  how  about  that  week?  She'll  run  to  that  beast  of 
a  husband  with  her  story " 

"  And  be  sorry  for  it  afterward " 

"Too  late." 

Morrell  appeared  to  think. 


350  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

"There's  something  in  that.  But  suppose  we  arranged  to  get 
the  husband  out  of  the  way,  where  she  couldn't  run  to  him  at 
once "  he  suggested. 

They  had  more  drinks.  At  first  Morrell  was  only  sardonically 
amused;  but  as  his  imagination  got  to  working  and  the  creative 
power  awoke,  his  interest  became  more  genuine.  It  was  all  too 
wildly  improbable  for  words — and  yet,  was  anything  improbable 
in  this  impossible  place?  At  least  it  was  amusing,  the  whole 
thing  was  amusing — this  super-refined  exquisite  awakened  to  an 
emotion  so  genuine  that  what  judgment  he  had  was  now  obscured 
by  the  eagerness  of  his  passion;  the  situation  apparently  so  easily 
malleable;  the  beautiful  safety  of  it  all  for  himself.  And  it  did 
not  really  matter  if  the  whole  fantastic  plot  failed! 

"I  tell  you,  no,"  he  broke  his  thoughts  to  reply  to  some  ill- 
considered  suggestion.  "The  good  old  simple  methods  are  the 
best — they're  all  laid  out  for  us  by  the  Drury  Lane  melodramas. 
You  leave  it  to  me  to  get  rid  of  him.  Then  we'll  send  the  usual 
message  to  her  that  he  is  lying  wounded  somewhere — say  at 
Jake's  road  house " 

"Won't  that  get  her  to  thinking  too  much  of  him?  "  interrupted 
Sansome  anxiously. 

Morrell,  momentarily  taken  aback,  gained  time  for  a  reply  by 
pouring  Sansome  another  drink.  "He's  more  sense  left  than  I 
thought, ' '  he  said  to  himself ;  and  aloud :  "All  you  want  is  to  get 
her  out  to  Jake's.  She'll  go  simply  as  a  matter  of  wifely  duty, 
and  all  that.  Don't  worry.  Once  she's  there,  it's  your  affair; 
and  unless  I  mistake  my  man,  I  believe  you'll  know  how  to 
manage  the  situation" — he  winked  slyly — "she's  really  mad 
about  you,  but,  like  most  women,  she's  hemmed  in  by  conven 
tion.  Boldly  break  through  the  convention,  and  she'll  come 
around." 

Sansome  was  plainly  fascinated  by  the  idea,  but  in  a  trepida 
tion  of  doubt,  nevertheless. 

"But  suppose  she  doesn't  come  around? "  he  objected  vaguely. 

Morrell  threw  aside  his  cigarette  and  arose  with  an  air  of 
decision. 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  351 

"I  thought  you  were  so  crazy  mad  about  her?  "  he  said  in  tones 
that  cut.  "What  are  you  wasting  my  time  for?" 

"No,  no!  Hold  on!"  cried  Sansome,  at  once  all  fire  again. 
"I'll  do  it— hold  on!" 

"As  a  matter  of  fact,"  observed  Morrell,  reseating  himself,  and 
speaking  as  though  there  had  been  no  interruption,  "  I  imagine 
you  have  little  to  fear  from  that." 

He  went  into  the  street  a  little  later,  his  vision  somewhat 
blurred,  but  his  mind  clear.  Sansome,  by  now  very  pot-valiant, 
swaggered  alongside. 

"By  the  way,  Ben,"  said  Morrell  suddenly,  "I  hope  you  go 
armed — these  are  bad  times." 

"I  have  always  carried  a  derringer — and  I  can  use  it,  too!" 
boasted  Sansome,  swinging  his  cane. 

Morrell,  left  alone,  stood  on  the  corner  for  some  time  diligently 
engaged  in  getting  control  of  himself.  He  laughed  a  little. 

"Regular  bally  melodrama,  conspiracy  and  all,  right  off  the 
blood-and-thunder  stage,"  said  he.  "  Wonder  if  it  works  in  real 
life?  We'll  see." 

After  his  head  had  cleared,  he  set  to  work  methodically  to  find 
Keith,  but  when  he  finally  met  that  individual  it  was  most 
casually.  '  Morrell  was  apparently  in  a  hurry,  but  as  he  saw 
Keith  he  appeared  to  hesitate,  then,  making  up  his  mind,  he 
approached  the  young  lawyer. 

"Look  here,  Keith,  a  word  with  you,"  he  said.  "I  have 
stumbled  on  some  information  which  may  be  important.  I  was 
on  my  way  to  the  committee  with  it,  but  I'm  in  a  hurry.  The 
governor  is  shipping  arms  into  the  city  to-morrow  night  from 
Benicia,  by  a  small  sloop." 

"Are  you  sure  of  this?"  asked  Keith. 

"Certain." 

"Where  did  you  get  the  information?" 

"That  I  cannot  tell  you." 

Keith  still  hesitated;  Morrell  turned  on  his  heel. 

"Well,  I've  told  you.  You  can  do  as  you  please,  but  you'd 
better  let  the  committee  decide  whether  to  take  the  tip  or  not." 


352  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

He  walked  away  without  once  looking  back,  certain  that  Keith 
would  end  by  reporting  the  information. 

"Chances  are  he'll  go  with  the  capturing  party,"  ran  the  trend 
of  his  thoughts,  "and  so  he'll  be  out  of  reach  of  this  little  ab 
duction.  But  I  don't  care  much.  If  he  follows  them  out  to 
Jake's  by  any  chance,  Sansome  will  shoot  him — or  he'll  shoot 
Sansome.  Doesn't  matter  which.  Shootin's  none  too  healthy 
these  days  for  either  side!  Oh,  Lord,  most  amusin'!" 

He  thought  a  while,  then  turned  up  the  hill  toward  his  own 
house.  A  new  refinement  of  the  plot  had  occurred  to  the  artist's 
soul  too  much  drink  had  released  in  him. 

Mrs.  Morrell  was  vastly  surprised  to  see  him.  She  was  clad  in 
a  formless  pink  silk  wrapper,  was  reclining  on  a  sofa,  and  was  set 
tling  down  to  relaxation  of  mind  and  body  by  means  of  French 
novels  and  cigarettes. 

"Well,  what  are  you  doing  here  at  this  time  of  day?"  was  her 
greeting. 

"  Came  to  bask  in  the  light  of  your  smiles,  my  dear,"  he  replied 
with  elephantine  irony. 

"Nonsense!"  she  rejoined  sharply.  "You've  been  drinking 
again!" 

"To  be  sure;  but  not  enough  to  hurt."  His  manner  suddenly 
became  businesslike.  "Look  here,"  he  asked  her,  "are  you 
game  to  make  a  tidy  bit  of  money?  " 

"Always!"  she  replied  promptly,  also  becoming  businesslike. 

He  explained  in  detail.  She  listened  in  silence  but  at  first  with 
a  slight  smile  of  contempt  on  her  lips.  As  he  progressed,  how 
ever,  the  smile  faded. 

"  Where  do  I  come  in?  "  she  asked  finally. 

"You  must  be  there  when  the  message  comes  to  her.  She 
might  not  go  out  to  Jake's  alone — probably  wouldn't.  I  don't 
know  her  well  enough  to  judge.  Hurry  her  into  it." 

"I  see."  She  laughed  suddenly.  "Lord,  she'll  be  surprised 
when  I  call  on  her!  Take  some  doing,  that!"  She  thought  a 
few  moments.  "  My  appearance  will  connect  us  with  it.  Won't 
do." 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  353 

"If-  the  thing  goes  through  we  won't  be  here,"  he  pointed  out. 
"If  it  doesn't  go  through  all  right,  we'll  arrange  a  little  comedy. 
Have  you  bound  and  gagged — before  her  eyes — or  something 
like  that." 

"Thanks,"  she  replied  to  this. 

Morrell  was  not  entirely  open.  He  did  not  tell  her  that 
money  or  no  money,  plot  or  no  plot,  he  had  resolved  to  flee  the 
city,  at  least  for  a  tune.  Investigations  were  getting  too  close 
to  some  of  his  past  activities.  He  did  not  offer  in  words  what  he 
nevertheless  knew  to  be  the  most  potent  of  his  arguments — 
namely,  the  implacable  hate  Mrs.  Morrell  bore  Keith.  MorrelTs 
knowledge  of  this  hate  was  accurate,  though  his  analysis  of  its 
cause  was  faulty.  He  thought  his  wife  to  be  Keith's  discarded 
mistress,  and  olid  not  greatly  care.  Nor  did  he  mention  the 
possibility  which,  however,  Mrs.  Morrell  now  voiced. 

"Suppose  Keith  follows  them  out  to  Jake's?"  she  suggested. 

"One  of  them  will  kill,  and  the  Stranglers  will  hang  the  other," 
he  said  briefly. 

She  looked  up. 

"I  don't  care  for  that!" 

"In  that  event,  you  will  not  be  present.  Your  job  will  be 
to  duck  out."  He  paused,  then  went  on  slowly:  "Would  you 
grieve  at  the  demise  of  either — or  all  three?" 

Her  face  hardened. 

"But,"  he  went  on  slowly,  "the  chances  of  it  are  very  remote. 
If  there  is  any  killing,  it  will  come  later.  Keith  will  be  kept 
out  of  the  way." 

"And  after?" 

"You  hint  of  an  assignation.     I  will  arrange  for  witnesses." 

"Where  does  the  money  come  in?"  she  demanded.  Morrell 
floundered  for  a  moment.  He  had  lost  sight  of  the  money. 

"It  comes  from  certain  parties  who  want  Keith  put  out  of  the 
way,"  he  said. 

"And  suppose  Keith  is  not  put  out  of  the  way?"  she  began, 
her  facile  mind  pouncing  on  the  weakness  of  this  statement. 
"  Never  mind,"  she  interrupted  herself.  "  I'll  do  it ! "  Her  face 


354  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

had  hardened  again.  "Can  you  depend  on  Sansome  to  go 
through  with  it?" 

"Only  if  he's  fairly  drunk." 

"Yes?" 

"Til  attend  to  that.  That  is  my  job.  You  may  not  see  me 
to-morrow;  but  go  in  the  evening  to  call  on  her." 

"It  looks  absolutely  preposterous,"  she  said  at  last,  "but  it 
may  work.  And,  if  any  part  of  it  works,  that'll  be  enough," 

"Yes,"  said  he. 

They  had  both  forgotten  the  money. 


LXIX 

AMORRELL  had  surmised,  Keith  decided  to  pass  on  the 
news  for  what  it  was  worth.  The  committee  believed 
it,  and  was  filled  with  consternation  at  the  incredible 
folly  of  the  projected  show  of  armed  force. 

"This  is  not  peace,  but  war,"  said  Coleman,  "which  we  are 
trying  to  avert!" 

The  Executive  Committee  went  into  immediate  session.  It 
was  now  evident  that  the  disbanding  would  have  to  be  indefi 
nitely  postponed.  An  extraordinary  program  to  meet  the  emer 
gency  was  discussed  piecemeal.  One  of  its  details  had  to  do 
with  the  shipment  of  arms  from  Benicia.  The  committee  here 
fell  neatly  into  the  trap  prepared  for  it.  In  all  probability  no 
one  clearly  realized  the  legal  status  of  the  muskets,  but  all  sup 
posed  them  already  to  belong  to  the  State  that  was  threatening 
to  use  them.  Charles  Doane,  instructed  to  take  the  steps 
necessary  to  their  capture,  called  to  him  the  chief  of  the  harbour 
police. 

"Have  you  a  small  vessel  ready  for  immediate  service?"  he 
asked  this  man. 

"Yes,  a  sloop,  at  the  foot  of  this  street." 

"Be  ready  to  sail  in  half  an  hour." 

Doane  then  turned  the  job  over  to  a  trustworthy,  quick-witted 
man  named  John  Durkee.  The  latter  selected  twelve  to 
assist  him,  among  whom  was  Keith,  at  the  latter's  especial  re 
quest.  Morrell,  loitering  near,  saw  this  band  depart  for  the 
water  front,  and  followed  them  far  enough  to  watch  them  em 
bark,  to  witness  the  hoisting  of  the  sloop's  sails,  and  to  see  the 
craft  heel  to  the  evening  breeze  and  slip  away  around  the  point. 
All  things  were  going  well.  The  committee  suspected  nothing 

355 


356  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

of  the  plot  to  fasten  the  crime  of  piracy  on  it;  Keith  was  out  of 
the  way.  Morrell  turned  on  his  heel  and  walked  rapidly  to  his 
rendezvous  with  Sansome. 

Durkee  and  his  sloop  beat  for  some  hours  against  wind  and 
tide;  but  finally,  so  strong  were  both,  he  was  forced  to  anchor 
in  San  Pablo  Bay  until  conditions  had  somewhat  modified. 
Finally,  he  was  able  to  get  under  way  again.  A  number  of 
craft  were  sailing  about,  and  one  by  one  these  were  overhauled, 
commanded  to  lay  to,  and  boarded  in  true  piratical  style.  It 
was  fun  for  everybody.  The  breeze  blew  in  strongly  from  the 
Golden  Gate,  the  waves  chopped  and  danced  merrily,  the  little 
sloop  dipped  her  rail  and  flew  along  at  a  speed  that  justified  her 
reputation  as  a  racer,  gulls  followed  curiously.  But  there 
were  no  practical  results.  Every  sailing  craft  they  overhauled 
proved  innocent,  and  either  indignant  or  sarcastic.  The  sun 
dipped,  and  the  short  twilight  of  this  latitude  was  almost  im 
mediately  succeeded  by  a  brilliant  night.  Slowly  the  breeze 
died,  until  the  little  sloop  could  just  crawl  along.  It  grew 
chilly,  and  there  was  no  food  aboard.  A  less  persistent  man 
than  John  Durkee  would  have  felt  justified  in  giving  it  up  and 
heading  for  home;  but  John  had  been  instructed  to  cruise  un 
til  he  captured  the  arms;  and  he  profanely  announced  his  in 
tention  of  so  doing. 

In  this  he  was  more  faithful  to  his  superiors  than  the  notorious 
Rube  Maloney  to  his  employers.  It  was  to  the  interest  of  the 
Law  and  Order  party  that  Rube  and  his  precious  crew  should  be 
promptly  and  easily  captured.  They  had  been  instructed  to 
carry  boldly  and  flagrantly,  in  full  daylight,  down  the  middle  of 
the  bay.  But  Terry's  permission  to  lay  in  "refreshments"  at 
cost  of  the  conspirators  had  been  liberally  interpreted.  By 
six  o'clock  Rube  had  just  sense  enough  left  to  drop  anchor  off 
Pueblo  Point.  There  the  three  jolly  mariners  proceeded  to 
celebrate;  and  there  they  would  probably  have  lain  undiscovered 
had  less  of  a  bulldog  than  Durkee  been  sent  after  them. 

As  it  was,  midnight  had  passed  before  Durkee's  keen  eyes 
caught  the  loom  of  some  object  in  the  black  mist  close  under  the 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  357 

point.  Quietly  he  eased  off  the  sheet  and  bore  down  on  it.  As 
soon  as  he  ascertained  definitely  that  the  object  was  indeed  a 
boat,  he  ran  alongside.  The  twelve  men  boarded  with  a  rush: 
they  found  themselves  in  possession  of  an  empty  deck.  From 
the  hatch  came  the  reek  of  alcohol  and  the  sound  of  hearty 
snoring.  The  capture  was  made. 

In  a  half  hour  the  transfer  of  the  muskets  and  the  three 
prisoners  was  accomplished.  The  latter  offered  no  resistance, 
but  seemed  cross  at  being  awakened.  Leaving  the  vessel  anch 
ored  off  the  point,  the  little  sloop  stood  away  again  for  San 
Francisco,  reaching  the  California  Street  wharf  shortly  after  day 
light.  Here  she  was  moored,  and  one  of  the  crew  was  dispatched 
to  the  committee  for  further  instructions  and  grub.  He  returned 
after  an  hour,  but  was  preceded  somewhat  by  the  grub. 

"They  say  to  deliver  the  muskets  at  headquarters,"  he  re 
ported,  "but  to  turn  the  prisoners  loose." 

"Turn  them  loose!"  cried  Durkee,  astonished. 

"That's  what  they  said,"  repeated  the  messenger.  "And 
here's  written  orders,"  and  he  displayed  a  paper  signed  by  the 
well-known  "33,  Secretary,"  and  bearing  the  Vigilante  seal  of 
the  open  eye. 

"All  right,"  acquiesced  Durkee.  "Now,  you  mangy  hounds, 
you've  got  just  about  twenty-eight  seconds  to  make  yourselves 
as  scarce  as  your  virtues.  Scat! " 

Rube  and  his  two  companions  had  several  of  the  twenty- 
eight  seconds  to  spare;  but  once  they  had  lost  sight  of  their 
captors,  they  moderated  their  pace.  They  had  been  much  de 
pressed,  but  now  they  cheered  up  and  swaggered.  A  few  drinks 
restored  them  to  normal,  and  they  were  able  to  put  a  good  face 
on  the  report  they  now  made  to  their  employers,  all  of  whom,  in 
cluding  Terry,  had  gathered  thus  early  to  receive  them.  After 
all,  things  had  gone  well:  they  had  been  actually  captured, 
which  was  the  essential  thing,  and  it  did  not  seem  necessary  to 
go  into  extraneous  details. 

"Good!"  cried  Terry,  who  had  come  down  from  Sacramento 
personally  to  superintend  the  working  out  of  this  latest  ruse, 


358  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

He  was  illegally  absent  from  his  court,  meddling  illegally  with 
matters  not  in  his  jurisdiction.  "Now  we  must  get  a  warrant 
for  piracy  into  the  hands  of  the  United  States  Marshal.  Send 
him  alone,  with  no  deputies.  When  he  makes  his  deposition  of 
resistance,  then  we  shall  see!" 

The  marshal  found  Durkee  still  at  the  wharf,  seated  on  an  up 
turned  cask. 

"I  have  this  warrant  for  your  arrest!"  he  proclaimed  in  a 
voice  purposely  loud. 

"Yes?  Let's  see  it,"  rejoined  Durkee,  lazily  reaching  out  his 
hand. 

He  read  the  document  through  leisurely.  His  features  be 
trayed  no  hint  of  his  thoughts,  but  nevertheless  his  brain  was 
very  active.  He  read  that  he  was  accused  of  piracy  against  the 
might  and  majesty  of  the  United  States  Government;  and  as  his 
eyes  slowly  followed  the  involved  and  redundant  legal  phrase 
ology,  he  reviewed  the  situation.  The  nature  of  the  trap 
became  to  him  partly  evident.  There  was  no  doubt  that  tech 
nically  he  was  a  pirate,  if  these  arms — as  it  seemed — belonged 
to  the  Government  and  not  to  the  State.  The  punishment  of 
piracy  was  death.  Without  appreciation  of  the  fact,  the  com 
mittee  had  made  him  liable  to  the  death  penalty.  And  he  had 
no  doubt  that  the  Federal  Courts  of  California,  as  then  consti 
tuted,  would  visit  that  penalty  on  him.  He  raised  his  head  and 
looked  about  him.  Within  call  were  lounging  a  dozen  resolute 
men  belonging  to  the  Committee  of  Vigilance.  He  had  but  to 
raise  his  voice  to  bring  them  to  his  assistance.  Once  inside 
Fort  Gunnybags  he  knew  that  the  committee  would  stand  be 
hind  him  to  the  last  man. 

But  John  Durkee  had  imagination  as  well  as  bulldog  persist 
ency.  His  mind  flashed  ahead  into  the  future,  envisaging  the 
remoter  consequences.  He  saw  the  majesty  of  the  law's  forces 
invoked  to  back  this  warrant  which  the  tremendous  power  of 
the  disciplined  Vigilantes  would  repulse;  he  saw  reinforcements 
summoned.  What  reinforcements?  A  smile  flitted  across  his  lips, 
and  he  glanced  up  at  the  warship  John  Adams  riding  at  anchor 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  359 

outside,  her  guns,  their  tampons  in  place,  staring  blackly  at  the 
city.  He  saw  the  whole  plot. 

"That's  all  right,"  he  told  the  waiting  marshal,  folding  the 
warrant  and  returning  it  to  him.  "Put  your  paper  in  your 
pocket.  IT!  go  with  you." 

By  this  quietly  courageous  and  intelligent  deed  John  Durkee 
completely  frustrated  the  fourth  and  most  dangerous  effort  of 
the  Law  and  Order  party.  There  was  no  legal  excuse  for  calKng 
on  Federal  forces  to  take  one  man — who  peaceably  surrendered ! 

Undoubtedly,  had  not  matters  taken  the  decided  and  critical 
turn  soon  to  be  detailed,  Durkee  would  have  been  immediately 
brought  to  trial,  and  perhaps  executed.  As  it  was,  even  the 
most  rabid  of  the  Law  and  Order  party  agreed  it  was  inexpe 
dient  to  press  matters.  The  case  was  postponed  again  and 
again,  and  did  not  come  to  trial  until  several  months,  by  which 
time  the  Vigilantes  had  practically  finished  their  work.  The 
law  finally  saved  its  face  by  charging  the  jury  that  "if  they  be 
lieved  the  prisoners  took  the  arms  with  the  intention  of  appro 
priating  them  to  their  own  use  and  permanently  depriving  the 
owner  of  them,  then  they  were  guilty.  But  if  they  took  them 
only  for  the  purpose  of  preventing  their  being  used  against  them 
selves  and  their  associates,  then  they  were  not  guilty."  Under 
which  hair-splitting  and  convenient  interpretation  the  "pirates" 
went  free,  and  everybody  was  satisfied! 


LXX 

A  PER  leaving  the  office  where  they  had  made  their  report 
to  their  employers,  Rube  Maloney  and  his  two  friends 
visited  all  the  saloons.  There  they  found  sympathetic 
and  admiring  audiences.  They  reviled  the  committee  collectively 
and  singly;  bragged  that  they  would  shoot  Coleman,  Truett,  Dur- 
kee,  and  some  others  at  sight;  flourished  weapons,  and  otherwise 
became  so  publicly  and  noisily  obstreperous  that  the  committee 
decided  they  needed  a  lesson.  Accordingly  they  instructed 
Sterling  Hopkins,  with  four  others,  to  rearrest  the  lot  and  bring 
them  in.  Hopkins  was  a  bulldog,  pertinacious,  rough,  a  faithful 
creature. 

News  of  these  orders  ran  ahead  of  their  performance.  Rube 
and  his  satellites  dropped  everything  and  fled  to  then-  masters 
like  threatened  dogs.  Their  masters,  who  included  Terry, 
Bowie,  Major  Marmaduke  Miles,  and  a  few  others,  happened 
to  be  discussing  the  situation  in  the  office  of  Richard  Ashe,  a 
Texan,  and  an  active  member  of  "the  chivalry."  The  three 
redoubtables  burst  in  on  this  gathering,  wild-eyed,  scared,  with 
the  statement  that  a  thousand  stranglers  were  at  their  heels. 

"Better  hide  'em,"  suggested  Bowie. 

But  hot-headed  Terry,  seconded  by  equally  hot-headed  Ashe, 
would  have  none  of  this. 

"By  gad,  let  them  try  it!"  cried  the  judge.  "I've  been 
aching  for  this  chance!" 

Therefore  when  Hopkins,  having  left  his  small  posse  at  the 
foot  of  the  stairs,  knocked  and  entered,  he  was  faced  by  the 
muzzles  of  half  a  dozen  pistols,  and  profanely  told  to  get  out  of 
there.  He  was  no  fool,  so  he  obeyed.  If  Terry  had  possessed 
the  sense  of  a  rooster,  or  a  single  quality  of  leadership,  he  would 

360 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  361 

have  seen  that  this  was  not  the  moment  to  precipitate  a  crisis. 
The  forces  of  his  own  party  were  neither  armed  nor  ready.  But 
here,  as  in  all  other  important  actions  of  his  career,  he  was  gov 
erned  by  the  haughty  and  headstrong  passions  of  the  moment — 
as  when  later  he  justified  himself  in  attempting  to  shoot  down  an 
old  and  unarmed  man.  Hopkins  left  his  men  at  the  foot  of  the 
stairs,  borrowed  a  horse  from  Dr.  Beverly  Cole,  who  was  passing, 
and  galloped  to  headquarters.  There  he  was  instructed  to 
return,  to  keep  watch,  that  reinforcements  would  follow.  He 
arrived  at  the  building  in  which  Ashe's  office  was  located, 
in  time  to  see  Maloney,  Terry,  Ashe,  McNabb,  Bowie,  and  Rowe 
all  armed  with  shotguns,  just  turning  the  far  corner.  He  dis 
mounted  and  called  on  his  men  to  follow.  The  little  posse 
dogged  the  judge's  party  for  some  distance.  For  a  time  no 
attention  was  paid  to  them,  but  as  they  pressed  closer  Terry, 
Ashe,  and  Maloney  whirled  and  presented  their  shotguns.  The 
movement  was  probably  intended  only  as  a  threat;  but  Hopkins, 
always  bold  to  the  point  of  rashness,  made  a  sudden  rush  at 
Maloney.  Judge  Terry  thrust  his  gun  at  the  Vigilante  officer 
who  seized  it  by  the  barrel.  At  the  same  instant  Ashe  pressed 
the  muzzle  of  his  weapon  against  one  Bovee's  breast,  but  hesi 
tated  to  pull  the  trigger.  It  was  getting  to  be  unhealthy  to 
shoot  men  in  the  open  street. 

"Are  you  a  friend?"  he  faltered. 

"Yes,"  replied  Bovee,  and  by  a  rapid  motion  struck  the  barrel 
aside. 

Another  of  the  Vigilantes  named  Barry  covered  Rowe  with  a 
pistol.  Rowe's  "chivalry"  oozed.  He  dropped  his  gun  and 
fled  toward  the  armoury.  The  others  struggled  for  possession  of 
weapons,  but  nobody  fired.  Suddenly  Terry  whipped  out  a 
knife  and  plunged  it  into  Hopkins's  neck.  Hopkins  relaxed  his 
hold  on  Terry's  shotgun  and  staggered  back. 

"  I  am  stabbed !    Take  them,  Vigilantes ! "  he  cried. 

He  sank  to  the  pavement.  Terry  and  his  friends  dropped 
everything  and  ran  toward  the  armoury.  Of  the  Vigilante  posse 
only  Bovee  and  Barry  remained,  but  these  two  pursued  the 


362  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

fleeing  Law  and  Order  men  to  the  very  portals  of  the  armoury 
itself.  When  the  door  was  slammed  in  their  faces,  they  took  up 
their  stand  outside,  they  two  holding  within  several  hundred 
men!  \  At  the  end  of  ten  minutes  a  pompous,  portly  individual 
came  up  under  full  sail,  cast  a  detached  and  haughty  glance  at 
the  two  quiet  men  lounging  unwarrantedly  in  his  path,  and  at 
tempted  to  pass  inside. 

"You  cannot  enter  here,"  said  Bovee  grimly,  as  they  barred 
his  way. 

The  pompous  man  turned  purple. 

"Do  you  know  who  I  am?  "  he  demanded. 

"  I  don't  give  a  damn  who  you  are,"  replied  Bovee,  still  quietly. 

"I  am  Major-General  Volney  E.  Howard!" 

"You  cannot  enter  here,"  repeated  Bovee;  and  this  time  he 
said  it  in  a  tone  of  voice  that  sent  the  major-general  scurrying 
away. 

After  a  short  interval  another  man  dashed  up  very  much  in  a 
hurry.  Mistaking  Bovee  and  Barry  for  sentinels,  he  cried  as  he 
ran  up: 

"  I  am  a  lieutenant  in  Calhoun  Bennett's  company,  and  I  have 
been  sent  here  to " 

"I  am  a  member  of  the  Committee  of  Vigilance,"  interrupted 
Barry,  "and  you  cannot  enter." 

"  What ! "  cried  the  officer,  in  astonishment.  "  Have  the  Vigi 
lance  Committee  possession  of  this  building?" 

"They  have,"  was  the  reply  of  the  dauntless  two. 

The  lieutenant  rolled  up  his  eyes  and  darted  away  faster  than 
he  had  come.  A  few  moments  later,  doubtless  to  the  vast  relief 
of  the  "outside  garrison"  of  the  armoury  within  which  five  or  six 
hundred  men  were  held  close  by  this  magnificent  bluff,  the  great 
Vigilante  bell  boomed  out:  one,  two,  three,  rest;  then  one,  twor 
three,  rest;  and  repeat. 

Immediately  the  streets  were  alive  with  men.  Merchants  left 
their  customers,  clerks  their  books,  mechanics  their  tools.  Dray 
men  stripped  their  horses  of  harness,  abandoned  their  wagons 
where  they  stood,  and  rode  away  to  their  cavalry.  Clancy  Demp- 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  363 

ster's  office  was  only  four  blocks  from  headquarters.  At  the  first 
stroke  of  the  bell  he  leaped  from  his  desk,  ran  down  the  stairs,  and 
jumped  into  his  buggy.  Yet  he  could  drive  only  three  of  the 
four  blocks,  so  dense  already  was  the  crowd.  He  abandoned  his 
rig  in  the  middle  of  the  street  and  forced  his  way  through  afoot. 
Two  days  later  he  recovered  his  rig.  In  the  building  he  found 
the  companies,  silently,  without  confusion,  falling  into  line. 

''All  right  I"  he  called  encouragingly.  "Keep  cool!  Take 
your  time  about  it!" 

"Ah,  Mr.  Dempster,"  they  replied,  "we've  waited  long! 
This  is  the  clean  sweep! " 

James  Olney  was  lying  in  bed  with  a  badly  sprained  ankle 
when  the  alarm  bell  began  to  toll.  He  commandeered  one  boot 
from  a  fellow-boarder  with  extremely  large  feet,  and  hobbled  to 
the  street.  There  he  seized  by  force  of  arms  the  passing  delivery 
wagon  of  a  kerosene  dealer,  climbed  to  the  seat,  and  lashed  the 
astonished  horse  to  a  run.  San  Francisco  streets  ran  to  chuck 
holes  and  ruts  in  those  days,  and  the  vehicle  lurched  and  banged 
with  a  grand  rattle  and  scatteration  of  tins  and  measures.  The 
terrified  driver  at  last  mustered  courage  to  protest. 

"  You  are  spilling  my  kerosene ! "  he  wailed. 

"Damn  your  kerosene,  sir!"  bellowed  the  general;  then  relent 
ing:  "I  will  pay  you  for  your  kerosene ! ' ' 

Up  to  headquarters  he  sailed  full  tilt,  and  how  he  got  through 
the  crowd  without  committing  manslaughter  no  one  tells.  There 
he  was  greeted  by  wild  cheering,  and  was  at  once  lifted  bodily  to 
the  back  of  a  white  horse,  the  conspicuous  colour  of  which  made 
it  an  excellent  rallying  point. 

Within  an  incredibly  brief  space  of  time  they  were  off  for  the 
armoury;  the  military  companies  marching  like  veterans;  the 
artillery  rumbling  over  the  rude  pavements;  the  cavalry  jogging 
along  to  cover  the  rear.  A  huge  roaring  mob  accompanied  them, 
followed  them,  raced  up  the  parallel  streets  to  arrive  before  the 
armoury  at  the  same  moment  as  the  first  files. 

The  armoury  square  was  found  to  be  deserted  except  for 
the  intrepid  Barry  and  Bovee,  who  still  marched  back  and 


364  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

forth  before  the  closed  door.  No  one  had  entered  or  left  the 
building. 

Inside  the  armoury  the  first  spirit  of  bravado  and  fight-to-the- 
last-ditch  had  died  to  a  sullen  stubbornness.  Nobody  had  much 
to  say.  Terry  was  very  contrite  as  well  he  might  be.  A  judge  of 
the  Supreme  Court,  who  had  no  business  being  in  San  Francisco 
at  all,  sworn  to  uphold  the  law,  had  stepped  out  from  his  juris 
diction  to  commit  as  lawless  and  idiotic  a  deed  of  passion  as 
could  have  been  imagined!  Whatever  chances  the  Law  and 
Order  party  might  have  had,  could  they  have  mobilized  their 
forces,  were  dissipated.  Their  troops  were  scattered  in  small 
units;  their  rank  and  file  were  heaven  knew  where;  their  enemies, 
fully  organized,  had  been  mustered  by  the  alarm  bell  to  full  alert 
ness  and  compactness.  And  Terry's  was  the  hand  that  had 
struck  that  bell !  For  the  only  time  in  his  recorded  history  David 
Terry's  ungoverned  spirit  was  humbled.  Until  he  found  that 
nothing  immediate  was  going  to  happen  to  him,  and  while  under 
the  silent  but  scathing  disapprobation  of  his  companions,  he 
actually  talked  of  resigning!  Parenthetically,  the  fit  did  not 
last  long,  and  he  soon  reared  his  haughty  crest  as  high  as  ever. 
But  now,  listening  to  the  roar  of  the  mob  outside,  peeping  at  the 
grim  thousands  of  armed  men  deploying  before  the  armoury,  he 
regretted  his  deed. 

" This  is  very  unfortunate;  very  unfortunate ! "  he  said.  " But 
you  shall  not  imperil  your  lives  for  me.  It  is  I  they  want.  I 
will  surrender  to  them." 

Instead  of  the  prompt  expostulation  he  expected,  a  dead 
silence  greeted  these  words. 

"There  is  nothing  else  to  do,"  agreed  Ashe  at  last. 

An  officer  was  sent  to  negotiate. 

"  We  will  deliver  up  the  armoury  if  you  will  agree  not  to  give 
us  over  to  the  mob,"  he  told  the  committee. 

"  We  hold,  and  intend  to  hold,  the  mob  under  absolute  control. 
We  have  nothing  in  common  with  mobs,"  was  Coleman's  reply. 

The  doors  were  then  thrown  open,  and  a  company  of  the 
Vigilante  troops  marched  in.  Within  ten  minutes  the  streets 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  365 

were  cleared.  The  six  hundred  prisoners,  surrounded  by  a  solid 
body  of  infantry  with  cavalry  on  the  flanks,  were  marched  to 
headquarters.  The  city  was  jubilant.  This,  at  last,  was  the 
clean  sweep!  Men  went  about  with  shining  faces,  slapping  each 
other  on  the  back.  And  Coleman,  the  wise  general,  realizing 
that  compromises  were  useless,  peace  impossible,  came  to  a 
decision.  Shortly  from  headquarters  the  entire  Vigilante  forces 
moved  in  four  divisions  toward  the  cardinal  points  of  the  com 
pass.  From  them  small  squads  were  from  time  to  time  detached 
and  sent  out  to  right  or  left.  The  main  divisions  surrounded  the 
remaining  four  big  armouries;  the  smaller  squads  combed  the  city 
house  by  house  for  arms.  In  the  early  morning  the  armouries 
capitulated.  By  sun-up  every  weapon  in  the  city  had  been  taken 
to  Fort  Gunnybags. 


LXXI 

UP  TO  this  time  Nan  Keith  had  undergone  the  experience 
of  nine  out  of  ten  married  women  in  early  California: 
that  is,  she  had  been  neglected.  Neglect  in  some  form 
or  other  was  the  common  lot  of  the  legally  attached  feminine. 
How  could  it  logically  be  otherwise?  In  the  turbulent,  varied, 
restless,  intensely  interesting,  deeply  exciting  life  of  the  pioneer 
city  only  a  poor-spirited,  bloodless,  nerveless  man  would  have 
thought  to  settle  down  to  domesticity.  A  quiet  evening  at 
home  stands  small  chance,  even  in  an  old-established  community, 
against  a  dog  fight  on  the  corner  or  a  fire  in  the  next  block; 
and  here  were  men  fights  instead,  and  a  great,  splendid  con 
flagration  of  desires,  appetites,  and  passions,  a  grand  clash  of 
interests  and  wills  that  burned  out  men's  lives  in  the  space  of  a 
few  years.  It  was  a  restless  time,  full  of  neglected  women. 
This  neglect  varied  in  degree  to  be  sure.  Nan  was  lucky  there. 
No  other  woman  had  thrust  her  way  in,  no  other  attraction  lured 
Keith  from  her,  as  had  happened  to  so  many  others.  She 
possessed  all  his  interest.  But  at  present  that  interest  seemed  so 
attenuated,  so  remote ! 

After  her  revulsion  of  feeling  the  afternoon  the  Vigilantes  first 
rose  in  their  might,  she  withdrew  within  her  pride.  Nan  was  no 
meek  and  humble  spirit.  But  the  scales  had  dropped  from  her 
eyes  as  to  affairs  about  her.  San  Francisco  suddenly  became 
something  besides  a  crude  collection  of  buildings.  For  the  first 
time  she  saw  it  as  a  living  entity,  strong  in  the  throes  of  growth. 
She  devoured  eagerly  all  the  newspapers,  collected  avidly  all  the 
rumours.  Whenever  possible,  she  discussed  the  state  of  affairs; 
but  this  was  difficult,  for  nearly  every  one  was  strongly  partisan 
for  one  side  or  another,  and  incapable  of  anything  but  excitement 

366 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  367 

and  vituperation.  The  Sherwoods  were  a  great  comfort  to  her 
here.  While  approving  of  the  new  movement,  they  nevertheless 
refused  to  become  heated,  and  retained  a  spirit  of  humour. 
Sherwood  was  not  a  member  of  the  Committee  of  Vigilance,  but 
he  had  subscribed  heavily — and  openly — to  its  funds;  he  had 
assisted  it  with  his  counsels;  and  it  was  hinted  that,  sub-rosa, 
he  had  taken  part  in  some  of  the  more  obscure  but  dangerous 
operations. 

"I  am  an  elderly,  peace-loving,  respectable  citizen,"  he  told 
Nan,  "and  I  stand  unequivocably  for  law  and  order  and  for 
justice,  for  the  orderly  doing  of  things;  and  against  violence,  mob 
spirit,  and  high-handedness." 

"  Why,  John  Sherwood ! "  cried  Nan,  up  in  arms  at  once.  "  I'd 
never  have  believed  you  could  be  on  the  side  of  Judge  Terry  and 
that  stripe." 

"  Oho ! "  cried  Sherwood,  delighted  to  have  drawn  her.  "  Now 
we  have  it !  But  what  made  you  think  I  was  on  that  side?  " 

"  Why — didn't  you  just  say— 

"Oh,"  said  Sherwood  comfortably,  "I  was  using  real  meanings, 
not  just  word  tags.  In  my  opinion  real  law  and  order,  orderly 
doing  of  things,  et  cetera,  are  all  on  the  other  side." 

"And  the  men —    -"  cried  Nan,  aglow. 

"The  men  are  of  course  all  noble,  self-sacrificing,  patriotic, 
immaculate  demigods  who —  He  broke  off,  chuckling  at 
Nan's  expression.  "No,  seriously,  I  think  they  are  doing  a  fine 
work,  and  that  they'll  go  down  in  history." 

"You're  an  old  dear!"  cried  Nan,  impulsively  kissing  his 
cheek. 

"Take  care,"  he  warned,  "you're  endangering  my  glasses  and 
making  my  wife  jealous." 

Nan  drew  back,  a  little  ashamed  at  having  shown  her  feelings; 
and  rather  astonished  herself  at  their  intensity. 

In  the  course  of  these  conversations  the  pendulum  with  her 
began  again  to  quiver  at  the  descent.  Through  the  calmly  philo 
sophical  eye  of  the  ex-gambler,  John  Sherwood,  she  partly  en 
visaged  the  significance  of  what  was  happening — the  struggling 


368  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

forth  of  real  government  from  the  sham.  Her  own  troubles  grew 
small  by  comparison.  She  began  to  feel  nearer  Keith  in  spirit  than 
for  some  time  past,  to  understand  him  better,  even — though  this 
was  difficult — to  get  occasionally  a  glimpse  of  his  relations  toward 
herself.  It  was  all  very  inchoate,  instinctive,  unformed;  rather 
an  instinct  than  a  clear  view.  She  became  restless;  for  she  had 
no  outlet  either  for  her  own  excitement  or  the  communicated  ex 
citement  of  the  times.  It  was  difficult  to  wait,  and  yet  wait  she 
must.  For  what?  She  did  not  know! 

On  the  crucial  June  evening  she  sat  by  the  lamp  trying  in  vain 
to  concentrate  her  attention  on  a  book.  The  sound  of  the  door 
bell  made  her  jump.  She  heard  Wing  Sam's  shuffle,  and  his 
cheerful  greeting  which  all  her  training  had  been  unable  to 
eliminate.  Wing  Sam  always  met  every  caller  with  a  smiling 
"Hello!"  A  moment  later  she  arose  in  some  surprise  as  Mrs. 
Morrell  entered  the  room. 

Relations  between  the  women  had  never  been  broken  off, 
though  the  pretence  of  ordinary  cordiality  had  long  since  been 
dropped.  When  Mrs.  Morrell  found  it  expedient  to  make  this 
call,  she  spent  several  hours  trying  to  invent  a  plausible  excuse. 
She  was  unable  to  do  so.  Finally  she  gave  it  up  in  angry  despair. 

"As  long  as  it  is  not  too  bald,  what  difference  does  it  make?" 
she  said  to  herself  cynically. 

And  out  of  this  desperation,  and  by  no  means  from  cleverness, 
she  hit  on  the  cleverest  thing  possible.  Instead  of  coming  to 
make  a  friendly  call,  she  pretended  to  be  on  an  errand  of  protest. 

"It's  about  your  dog,"  she  told  Nan,  "he's  a  dear  good  dog, 
and  a  great  friend  of  ours.  But  cannot  you  shut  him  up  nights? 
He's  inclined  to  prowl  around  under  my  windows,  and  just  the 
sound  of  him  there  keeps  me  awake.  I  know  it's  foolish;  but  I 
am  so  nervous  these  days " 

"Why,  of  course,"  said  Nan  with  real  contrition.  "I'd  no 
idea " 

Gringo  was  at  the  moment  ingratiating  himself  with  Wing  Sam 
in  re  one  soup  bone  of  no  use  to  anybody  but  dogs.  If  he  could 
have  heard  Mrs.  Morrell's  indictment,  he  would  have  been  both 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  369 

grieved  and  surprised:  Gringo  never  prowled  anywhere.  Like 
most  rather  meaty  individuals,  he  was  a  very  sound  sleeper;  and 
in  the  morning  he  often  felt  a  little  uneasy  in  his  conscience  as  to 
the  matter  of  stray  trespassing  cats  or  such  small  fry.  He  had 
every  confidence  that  his  instincts  would  warn  him  of  really 
important  things,  like  burglars.  Still,  the  important  things  are 
not  all  of  life;  nor  burglars  all  the  duty  of  a  dog. 

Having  slandered  the  innocent  Gringo,  Mrs.  Morrell  stayed 
for  a  chat.  Apparently  she  was  always  just  on  the  point  of 
departure,  but  never  went.  Nan,  being,  as  she  thought,  in  the 
wrong  as  to  the  worthy  Gringo,  tried  her  best  to  be  polite,  but 
was  miserably  conscious  of  being  snippy. 

At  the  end  of  an  hour  the  door  bell  rang  again.  If  Nan  had 
been  watching,  she  might  have  seen  Mrs.  Morrell's  body  relax 
as  though  from  a  tension.  After  a  moment  Wing  Sam  shuffled 
into  the  room  carrying  a  soiled  folded  paper. 

"Man  he  tell  you  lead  this  chop-chop,"  said  he. 

Murmuring  an  apology,  Nan  opened  the  paper.  With  a  cry 
she  sprang  to  her  feet.  Her  face  had  gone  white. 

"What  is  it?"  cried  Mrs.  Morrell  in  apparent  anxiety. 

Without  a  word  Nan  extended  the  paper.  Written  in  pencil 
were  these  words: 

MADAM:  Your  husband  has  been  injured  in  an  attempt  at 
arrest.  He  wants  me  to  tell  you  he  is  at  Jake's  Place  hurt  bad. 
With  respects.  JOHN  Q.  ALDER. 

For  an  instant  Mrs.  Morrell  did  not  dare  look  up.  She  was 
thoroughly  angry  at  what  she  thought  to  be  her  husband's  stu 
pidity. 

"Why,  that  wouldn't  deceive  a  child!"  she  thought  contemp 
tuously. 

"How  dreadful!  Who  is  Alder?"  she  said,  merely  to  say 
something. 

Nan  shook  her  head. 

"I  don't  know,"  she  replied  rather  wildly.  "One  of  the 
Vigilantes,  I  suppose.  I  must  go  out  there.  At  once!" 


370  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

She  ran  to  the  hall  where  she  began  to  rummage  for  cloaks. 
Mrs.  Morrell  followed  her  in  wonderment.  She  was  going  to 
take  this  crude  bait  after  all!  Mrs.  Morrell  had  not  the  slight 
est  idea  Nan  still  loved  her  husband. 

"  You  can't  go  alone !' '  she  cried  in  apparent  sympathy.  "You 
poor  child!  Jake's  Place — at  this  time  of  night!" 

"I'd  go  to  hell  if  he  needed  me  there!"  cried  Nan. 

Mrs.  Morrell  became  suddenly  capable  and  commanding. 

"Then  I  shall  go  with  you,"  she  announced  firmly. 

"Oh,  you're  good  to  me!"  cried  Nan,  full  of  contrition,  and 
feeling,  beneath  her  anxiety,  that  she  had  misjudged  her  neigh 
bour's  heart. 

Mrs.  Morrell  took  charge.  She  lit  the  lantern,  led  the  way  to 
the  stable,  did  the  most  toward  harnessing  the  horse.  They 
made  rather  a  mess  of  it,  but  the  horse  was  gentle  and  reliable. 
When  they  had  backed  the  buggy  out  of  the  barn,  she  insisted 
on  driving. 

"You're  in  no  fit  condition,"  she  told  Nan,  and  Nan  obedi 
ently  climbed  in  beside  her. 

The  drive  was  made  in  silence,  except  that  occasionally  Nan 
urged  hurry.  She  sat  bolt  upright,  her  hands  clasped  in  her 
lap,  her  figure  rigid,  trying  to  keep  hold  of  herself.  At  Jake's 
Place  a  surly  hostler  appeared  and  led  away  their  horse.  Jake's 
Place  was  in  darkness  save  for  one  lighted  room  on  the  ground 
floor  and  a  dimly  illuminated  bar  at  the  other  end. 

It  is  but  just  to  a  celebrated  resort  that  had  seen  and  was  still 
to  see  much  of  life  to  say  that  it  knew  nothing  of  the  plot.  San- 
some  had  engaged  the  ground-floor  parlour,  and  ordered  a  fire 
and  drinks.  Morrell  had  commanded  a  little  supper  for  later. 
Now  two  ladies  appeared.  This  was  all  normal.  Without 
drinks,  little  suppers,  and  the  subsequent  appearance  of  ladies, 
Jake's  Place  would  soon  have  languished. 

Nan  leaped  over  the  wheel  to  the  ground  as  soon  as  the  buggy 
had  stopped,  and  before  the  dilatory  hostler  had  cramped  aside 
the  wheel. 

"Where  is  he?"  she  demanded  breathlessly.    The  hostler 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  371 

jerked  a  thumb  at  the  lighted  windows.  Without  a  word  Nan 
ran  up  the  steps  and  to  the  door.  The  hostler  looked  after  her 
flying  figure,  then  grinned  up  at  Mrs.  Morrell. 

"Yum!  yum!"  said  he,  "but  she's  the  eager  little  piece!" 

Mrs.  Morrell  gave  him  a  coin,  and  as  he  moved  away  with  the 
horse,  she,  too,  ran  up  the  steps.  Nan  had  entered  the  parlour 
door,  leaving  it  open  behind  her.  Mrs.  Morrell  closed  it  again, 
and  locked  it.  Then,  with  a  certainty  that  proved  her  famili 
arity  with  the  place,  she  walked  down  the  length  of  the  veranda 
to  a  hall,  which  she  entered. 

Nan  had  burst  into  a  parlour  with  an  open  fire.  Before  it 
stood  a  small  table  crowded  with  bottles  and  glasses.  Sansome 
rose,  rather  unsteadily,  from  one  of  the  easy  chairs.  Nan  ut 
tered  an  exclamation  of  relief  as  she  recognized  him. 

"Oh,  I'm  glad  you're  here!"  she  cried.  ''This  is  kind!  How 
is  he?  Where  is  he?" 


LXXII 

MORRELL  had  no  easy  day  with  Ben  Sansome.  He  had 
been  forced  to  spend  the  whole  of  it  with  his  protege, 
save  for  the  hour  he  had  devoted  to  seeing  Keith  off  on 
the  piratical  expedition.  It  was  a  terrible  bore.  In  turn  he  had 
played  on  the  youth's  pique,  the  supposed  insult  to  his  manhood, 
his  desire  for  the  woman.  Sansome  was  not  naturally  a  valiant 
adventurer;  but  he  had  an  exceedingly  touchy  vanity,  which, 
with  a  little  coddling,  answered  nearly  as  well.  Morrell  took 
the  confident  attitude  that,  of  course,  Sansome  was  not  afraid; 
therefore  Sansome  was  ashamed  to  be  afraid. 

"For  the  moment,"  said  the  Englishman,  "she's  carried 
away  by  the  glamour  of  this  Vigilante  movement.  They  seem 
to  her  strong  men.  She  contrasts  them  with  us  men  of  the 
world,  and  as  she  cannot  see  that  a  polished  exterior  is  not 
incompatible  with  strength,  she  has  a  faint  growing  contempt 
for  us.  Women  like  strength,  masterfulness.  It  is  the  chance 
of  your  life  to  show  her  that  a  man  comme  il  faut  is  the  equal 
of  these  squalid  brutes  in  that  respect.  She  is  in  love  with 
you  already,  but  she  doesn't  know  it.  All  that  is  necessary 
is  a  show  of  masterfulness  to  make  her  realize  it."  He  stifled 
a  yawn.  "Lord,  what  dreary  piffle!"  he  confided  to  himself. 
He  painted  Keith  as  a  contemptible  renegade  from  his  own 
class,  currying  favour  with  those  below  him,  a  cheap  dema- 
gague,  a  turncoat  avid  for  popular  power. 

"At  heart  he's  a  coward— all  such  men  are.  And  he's  so 
wrapped  up  in  his  ambition  that  his  wife  is  a  small  matter  to 
him.  There's  no  danger  from  him,  for  he's  away;  and  after  the 
first  flare-up  we'll  be  able  to  handle  him  among  us,  never  fear!" 
But  after  impressing  this  point,  Morrell  always  was  most  care 
ful  to  interpose  the  warning:  "If  it  should  come  to  trouble, 

372 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  373 

don't  let  him  get  near  you !  He's  absolutely  rotten  with  a  gun — 
you  saw  him  in  that  farce  of  a  duel — but  he's  a  strong  beggar. 
Don't  let  him  get  his  hands  on  you!" 

"I  won't,"  promised  Sansome,  a  trifle  shakily. 

Then  Morrell,  lighting  a  fresh  cigar  and  fortifying  his  bored 
soul  with  another  drink,  skilfully  outlined  a  portrait  of  San- 
some  himself  as  a  hero,  a  dashing  man  of  the  world,  a  real  devil 
among  the  ladies,  the  haughty  and  proud  exponent  of  aristo 
cratic  high-handedness.  He  laid  this  on  pretty  thick,  but  San- 
some  had  by  now  consumed  a  vast  number  of  drinks,  and  was 
ready  to  swallow  almost  anything  in  addition.  MorrelPs  cus 
tomary  demeanour  was  rather  stolid,  silent,  and  stupid;  but 
when  he  was  really  interested  and  cared  to  exert  himself,  he  be 
came  unexpectedly  voluble  and  plausible.  Mid-evening  he 
drove  this  creature  of  his  own  fashioning  out  to  Jake's  Place,  and 
deposited  him  in  the  parlour  with  the  open  fire,  the  table  of 
drinks,  and  the  easy  chairs. 

His  plans  from  this  point  on  were  based  on  the  fact  that  he 
had  started  Keith  out  on  an  expedition  that  should  last  all  night. 
Had  there  been  the  slightest  chance  that  the  injured  husband 
could  appear,  you  may  be  sure  Morrell  would  not  have  been 
present.  Of  course  witnesses  were  necessary  to  the  meeting  at 
the  road  house.  With  Keith  imminent,  hirelings  would  have 
been  arranged  for.  With  Keith  safely  away,  Morrell  saw  no 
reason  why  heshouldnotenjoythesituation  himself.  Therefore  he 
had  arranged  a  little  supper  party.  Teeny  McFarlane  and  Jimmy 
Ware  were  his  first  thought  Then  he  added  Pop  McFarlane. 
If  he  wanted  Teeny  as  a  witness,  the  party  must  be  respectable ! 

At  the  sound  of  wheels  outside  Morrell  arose  and  slipped  out 
the  back  door  of  the  parlour. 

"Now,  remember!"  he  told  Sansome  from  the  doorway. 
"Now's  the  chance  of  your  life!  You've  got  her  love,  and  you 
must  keep  her.  She'll  cut  up  rough  at  first.  That's  when  you 
must  show  what's  in  you.  Go  right  after  her ! " 

As  Nan  burst  into  the  room  by  one  door  he  softly  closed — and 
locked— the  other  behind  him. 


LXXIII 

BUT  Sansome,  although  he  had  put  up  a  brave  front  to  the 
last  moment,  was  not  in  reality  feeling  near  the  hero  of 
romance  he  looked.  In  spite  of  MorrelPs  cleverness,  the 
Englishman  had  failed  to  observe  that  Sansome  had  touched  the 
fringe  of  that  second  stage  of  semi-drunkenness  when  the 
"  drinks  were  dying  on  him."  While  outwardly  fairly  sober,  in 
wardly  he  was  verging  toward  the  incoherent.  First  one  phase 
or  mood  would  come  to  the  top,  then  another,  without  order, 
sequence,  or  logical  reason.  He  was  momentarily  dangerous  or 
harmless.  Nan's  abrupt  entrance  scattered  his  last  coherences. 
For  the  moment  he  fell  back  on  habit,  and  habit  was  with  him 
conventional.  He  smiled  his  best  smile. 

"Do 'sit  down,"  he  urged  in  his  most  society  manner. 

This  immediately  convinced  Nan  that  Keith  must  be  badly 
hurt. 

"  Tell  me  at  once ! "  she  demanded.  "  Where  is  Milton?  Is  he 
—is " 

"As  far  as  I  know,"  replied  Sansome,  still  in  his  courtly 
manner,  "  Mr.  Keith  is  in  perfect  health.  As  to  where  he  is  "  —he 
waved  an  airy  hand — "  I  do  not  know.  It  does  not  matter,  does 
it?  The  point  is  we  are  cozy  here  together.  Do  sit  down." 

"I  don't  understand,"  said  she,  advancing  a  step  nearer,  her 
brows  knit.  "  Don't  put  me  off.  I  got  a  note  saying " 

"I  know;  I  wrote  it,"  boasted  Sansome  fatuously. 

The  blood  mounted  her  face,  her  fists  clenched,  she  advanced 
several  steps  fearlessly. 

"I  don't  quite  understand,"  she  repeated,  in  hard,  crisp  tones. 
"You  wrote  it?  Isn't  it  true?  What  did  you  do  such  a  thing 
for?" 

374 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  375 

"To  get  you  here,  my  dear,  of  course,"  rejoined  Sansome 
gallantly.  "  I  knew  your  puritanical  scruples — I  love  them  every 
one— but " 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  you  dared  decoy  me  here!"  challenged 
Nan,  all  aflame.  Her  whole  emotion  was  one  of  rage.  It  did  not 
occur  to  her  to  be  afraid  of  Ben  Sansome,  the  conventional,  the 
dilettante  exquisite,  without  the  gumption  to  say  boo  to  a  goose! 

This  Sansome  answered  her,  the  habit  of  society  strong  within 
him.  He  became  deprecatory,  pleading,  almost  apologetic.  His 
manners  were  on  top  and  his  rather  weak  nature  quailed  before 
the  blaze  of  her  anger. 

"I  know  it  was  inexcusable,"  he  babbled,  "but  what  could  I 
do?  I  am  mad  about  you!  Do  forgive  me!  Just  sit  down  for  a 
few  moments.  I  don't  blame  you  for  being  angry — any  one  is 
angry  at  being  deceived — but  do  forgive  me.  If  you'll  only 
consider  why  I  did  it,  you  won't  be  angry.  That's  right,"  he 
ended  soothingly,  seeing  that  she  neither  spoke  nor  moved. 
"Just  sit  right  down  here  and  be  comfortable.  It  must  be  cold 
driving.  Let  me  give  you  a  glass  of  sherry."  He  fussed  about, 
shoving  forward  an  armchair,  arranging  pillows,  unstopping  the 
decanter. 

"  You  fool ! "  she  ejaculated  in  a  low  voice.  She  looked  him  all 
up  and  down,  and  turned  to  go. 

The  door  was  locked!  For  the  first  tune  she  noticed  that  Mrs. 
Morrell  had  not  followed  her  in.  Her  heart  fluttered  in  sudden 
panic,  which  she  subdued.  She  moved  toward  the  other  door. 

The  words,  and  especially  the  frustration  of  her  intention, 
brought  another  mood  to  the  surface  of  Sansome's  intoxication. 
The  polished  society  man  with  the  habit  of  external  unselfishness 
disappeared.  Another  Sansome,  whom  Nan  did  not  recognize, 
sprang  to  take  his  place. 

"No,  you  don't ! "  he  snarled.  " That  door's  locked,  too.  You 
don't  get  out  of  here  until  I  choose  to  let  you  out! " 

"You'll  let  me  out;  and  you'll  let  me  out  right  now,  or  I'll  call 
for  help,"  said  Nan  determinedly. 

Sansome  deliberately  seated  himself,  stretching  his  legs  out 


376  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

straight  before  him,  his  hands  in  his  pockets.  This  was  the 
masterful  r61e  he  had  seen  himself  playing,  and  he  instinctively 
took  the  attitude  approved  by  the  best  melodramatic  masters. 

"Call  all  you  please,"  he  sneered.  "  Nobody's  going  to  pay 
any  attention  to  your  calls  at  Jake's  Place! " 

Nan's  heart  went  cold  as  she  realized  the  complete  truth  of 
this.  She  was  beginning  to  know  fear.  This  was  a  new  sort  of 
creature  before  her,  one  with  which  she  was  acquainted  only  by 
instinct.  She  did  not  know  what  to  do  next,  except  that  she  saw 
surely  that  open  opposition  would  only  aggravate  the  situation. 

"I  must  gain  time!"  she  told  herself,  though  to  what  end  she 
could  not  have  said. 

Her  pulses  beat  wildly,  but  she  forced  herself  to  a  specious 
calmness. 

"But  Ben,"  she  said  as  naturally  as  she  could,  "why  did  you 
do  so  foolish  a  thing  as  this?  It  might  make  all  kinds  of  trouble. 
You  can  always  see  me  at  the  house;  you  know  that.  Why  did 
you  get  me  out  on  this  mad  expedition?  If  we  were  to  be  seen 
here  by  anybody  we  would  be  deeply  compromised." 

The  words  reminded  her  of  Mrs.  Morrell;  but  out  of  sheer 
terror  she  resolutely  thrust  that  idea  from  her  mind.  At  this 
appeal  Sansome  suddenly  became  maudlin. 

"You've  treated  me  like  a  dog  lately — a  yellow  dog!"  he 
mourned.  "What  good  did  it  do  to  go  to  your  house  and  be 
treated  like  a  yellow  dog?" 

Nan's  faculties  were  beginning  to  rally  after  the  first  panic. 
Her  heart  was  still  thumping  violently,  but  her  eyes  were  bright, 
and  her  fighting  courage  was  flowing  back.  For  the  first  time  his 
obvious  condition  registered  on  her  brain. 

"He's  drunk!"  she  thought. 

This  discovery  at  first  induced  in  her  another  small  panic. 
Then  her  courage  boldly  took  it  as  a  point  of  attack.  The  man 
was  drunk  and  dangerous;  very  well,  let  us  make  him  more  drunk 
and  less  dangerous.  That  was  a  desperate  enough  expedient,  but 
at  least  it  was  definite.  She  crossed  deliberately  to  the  other  easy 
chair,  and  sat  down. 


"CALL  ALL  YOU  PLEASE,"  HE  SNEERED.     " NOBODY'S  GOING  TO 
PAY  ANY  ATTENTION  TO  YOUR  CALLS  AT  JAKE'S  PLACE!  " 


t\  I 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  377 

"Well,  let's  sit  down,"  she  agreed.  "No!"  more  decidedly, 
"  you  sit  there,  on  the  other  side.  It's  more  cozy,"  she  continued, 
at  just  the  right  moment  to  get  her  effect  on  his  instinct  of  good 
manners.  " Now,  I  will  have  that  sherry .  No,  don't  bother;  it 
is  next  my  hand.  You  must  drink  with  me.  Let  me  pour  it  for 
you — with  my  own  hands — aren't  you  flattered?  " 

She  smiled  across  at  him.  This  sudden  reversion  to  an  easy 
every-day  plane  had  brought  Sansome's  first  mood  again  to  the 
surface.  In  this  atmosphere  of  orderly  tete-a-tete  he  was  again 
the  society  man.  Nan  breathed  freer.  He  murmured  some 
thing  inane  and  conventional  about  Hebe. 

"Meaning  you're  a  little  tin  god?"  she  chaffed. 

He  said  something  still  more  involved,  to  the  effect  that  her 
presence  would  make  a  god  out  of  the  most  unworthy  mortal.  It 
was  all  vapid,  unreal,  elaborate,  artificial. 

"If  I  can  only  keep  him  at  this!"  thought  she  desperately. 

She  had  drunk  her  glass  of  sherry  because  she  felt  she  needed 
it.  Now  she  poured  another,  and  without  comment,  refilled 
Sansome's  whiskey  glass. 

"Here's  to  us!"  she  cried,  lifting  her  glass. 

Nan's  plan  of  getting  him  so  drunk  that  he  would  not  inter 
fere  with  her  escape  had  the  merit  of  simplicity,  and  also  of  en 
dorsement  by  such  excellent  authority  as  melodrama  and  the 
novel.  It  had  the  defect  of  being  entirely  theoretical.  Nan's 
innocence  of  the  matter  in  hand  had  not  taken  into  account  the 
intermediate  stages  of  drunkenness,  nor  did  she  realize  the 
strength  inherent  in  the  association  of  ideas.  As  she  leaned  for 
ward  to  fill  the  glasses,  Sansome's  eyes  brightened.  He  had 
seen  women  pouring  wine  many  times  before.  The  picture  before 
him  reminded  him  of  a  dozen  similar  pictures  taken  from  the 
gallery  of  his  rather  disreputable  past.  His  elaborate  compli 
mentary  mood  vanished.  He  pledged  her  ardently,  and  deep  in 
his  eyes  began  to  burn  a  secret  covetous  flame.  Nan  poured  her 
sherry  under  the  table. 

"This  really  is  a  cozy  party! "  she  cried.  " Will  you  have  an 
other  with  me?" 


378  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

The  third  glass  of  neat  whiskey  whirled  in  Sansome's  head. 
He  was  verging  toward  complete  drunkenness,  but  in  the  mean 
time  became  amorous.  His  eyes  burned,  his  lips  fell  apart. 
Nan  tried  in  desperation  to  keep  on  a  plane  of  light  persiflage, 
to  hold  him  to  his  chair  and  to  the  impersonal.  Deep  fear  en 
tered  her.  She  urged  more  drink  on  him,  hoping  that  he  would 
be  overpowered.  It  was  like  a  desperate  race  between  this  man's 
passions  and  the  deep  oblivion  that  reached  for  them.  Her 
mouth  was  dry,  and  her  brain  whirled.  Only  by  the  greatest 
effort  could  she  prevent  herself  from  flying  to  pieces.  Sansome 
hardly  appeared  to  hear  her.  He  wagged  his  head  at  her, 
looking  upon  her  with  swimming,  benevolent  eyes.  Suddenly, 
without  warning,  he  sprang  up,  overturning  with  a  crash  the 
small  table  and  the  bottles  and  glasses. 

"By  God,  you're  the  most  beautiful  woman  I  ever  saw!"  he 
cried.  "Come  here!" 

He  advanced  on  her,  his  eyes  alight.  She  saw  that  the  crisis 
had  come,  and  threw  aside  all  pretence. 

"  Keep  away !  Keep  away ! "  she  warned  him  through  gritted 
teeth;  then,  as  he  continued  to  stumble  toward  her,  she  struck  at 
him  viciously  again  and  again  with  one  of  the  small  light  chairs. 

For  a  moment  or  so  she  actually  managed  to  beat  him  off;  but 
he  lunged  through  the  blows  and  seized  her  around  the  shoulders. 

"Reg'lar  little  tiger  cat!"  he  murmured  with  fond  admiration. 

His  reeking  breath  was  on  her  neck  as  he  sought  her  mouth. 
She  threw  her  head  back  and  to  one  side,  fighting  desperately 
and  silently,  tearing  at  him  with  her  hands,  writhing  her  body, 
lowering  her  head  as  he  forced  her  around,  kicking  at  his  shin. 
The  man's  strength  was  as  horrible  as  it  was  unexpected.  The 
efforts  to  which  she  was  giving  her  every  ounce  did  not  appear 
to  have  the  slightest  effect  on  him.  His  handsome  weak  far* 
.continued  to  smile  foolishly  and  fondly  down  on  her. 

"Reg'lar  little  tiger  cat!"  he  repeated  over  and  over. 

The  terrible  realization  dawned  on  her  that  he  was  too  much  for 
her.  Her  body  suddenly  went  lax.  She  threw  back  her  head 
and  screamed. 


LXXIV 

THE  plot  which  Morrell  had  first  suggested  idly  and  as 
sort  of  a  joke,  but  which  later  he  had  entered  into  with 
growing  belief,  was  quite  perfect  in  all  details  but  one: 
he  assumed  that  Keith  had  accompanied  Durkee's  expedition, 
and  was  sure  that  he  had  seen  the  young  lawyer  off.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  Keith  had  been  recalled.  A  messenger  had  at  the  very 
last  moment  handed  him  an  order  sealed  with  the  well-known 
open  eye,  and  signed  "33  Secretary."  It  commanded  him  to 
proceed  with  certain  designated  men  to  the  arrest  of  certain 
others  inscribed  on  the  black  list.  This  was  a  direct  order, 
whereas  the  present  expedition  was  wholly  a  voluntary  affair. 
Keith  had  no  alternative  but  to  obey,  though  he  did  so  reluc 
tantly,  for  this  search  for  arms  had  promised  sport.  Therefore, 
he  stepped  ashore  at  the  last  instant;  a  proceeding  unobserved 
by  Morrell,  who  was  surveying  the  scene  from  a  distance,  and 
who  turned  away  once  the  sails  were  hoisted. 

The  duty  to  which  Keith  had  been  assigned  took  some  time. 
The  men  had  to  be  searched  out  one  by  one,  escorted  to  head 
quarters,  and  the  usual  formalities  there  accomplished.  It  was 
late  in  the  evening  before  he  was  free  to  go  home.  He  let  him 
self  in  with  his  latchkey,  and  had  just  turned  up  the  low-burning 
gas  hi  the  hall  when  the  sound  of  hurrying  feet  brought  him 
back  to  the  door.  He  flung  it  open  to  confront  Mrs.  Sherwood 
and  Kraff  t.  They  were  both  panting  as  though  they  had  run 
some  distance  and  Krafft's  usually  precise  attire  was  dishevelled 
and  awry,  as  though  it  had  been  hastily  put  on. 
"Nan!"  gasped  Mrs.  Sherwood.  "Is  she  here?" 
Keith,  with  instant  decision,  asking  no  questions,  threw  open 
the  parlour  door,  glanced  within,  ran  upstairs  three  steps  at  a 

379 


380  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

time,  but  almost  immediately  returned  afte?  a  hasty  inspection 
of  the  upper  story.  His  face  had  gone  very  pale,  but  he  had 
himself  in  perfect  control. 

"Well?"  he  demanded  crisply,  looking  from  one  to  the  other. 

But  Mrs.  Sherwood  did  not  stop  to  answer.  With  a  stifled 
exclamation  she  darted  from  the  house.  Kraff t  looked  after  her, 
bewildered  Keith  shook  him  savagely  by  the  shoulder. 

"Speak  up,  man!  Quick!  What  is  it?"  demanded  Keith. 
His  voice  was  vibrant  with  suppressed  excitement,  but  he  held 
himself  outwardly  calm,  and  waited  immobile  until  the  end  of 
Kraff t's  story.  It  was  characteristic  of  him  as  of  all  strong  men 
in  a  crisis  that  he  made  no  move  whatever  until  he  was  sure  he 
had  grasped  the  whole  situation. 

Kraff  t  was  just  going  to  bed — he  always  retired  early — when 
he  was  called  to  the  door  by  Mex  Ryan.  Mex  had  never  come 
to  his  house  before.  He  was  a  shoulder  striker  and  a  thug;  but 
he  had  one  sure  streak  of  loyalty  in  that  nothing  could  ever  in 
duce  him  to  go  back  on  a  pal.  For  various  reasons  he  con 
sidered  Kraff  t  a  pal.  He  was  very  much  troubled. 

"Look  here,  boss,"  he  said  to  Kraff  t.  "It  just  come  to  my 
mind  a  while  ago:  what  was  the  name  of  that  bloke  you  told  me 
to  keep  off'n?  The  Cora  trial  man,  I  mean." 

Krafft  recalled  the  circumstance,  and  named  Keith. 

Mex  slapped  his  head. 

"  That's  right !  It  come  to  me  afterward.  Well,  there's  dirty 
work  with  his  wife.  That's  where  I  see  the  name,  on  the  out 
side  of  the  note.  I  just  give  her  a  fake  letter  that  says  her  hus 
band  is  shot,  and  she's  to  go  to  him." 

"How  did  he  know  what  the  letter  said?"  interjected  Keith 
at  this  point. 

"  He'd  read  anything  given  him,  of  course.  Mex  knew  the 
letter  was  false.  I  came  up  to  find  your  house.  I  didn't  know 
where  you  lived,  so  I  stopped  at  John  Sherwood's  to  inquire. 
Mrs.  Sherwood  was  home  alone.  She  came  with  me." 

"  Where  did  this  letter  say  I  was  supposed  to  be?  "  asked  Keith. 

"Jake's  Place." 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  381 

"My  God!"  cried  Keith,  and  leaped  for  the  door.  At  the 
same  instant  Mrs.  Sherwood's  voice  was  heard  from  the  darkness. 

"  Come  here/'  she  cried,  "  I  have  a  rig." 

They  found  her  seated  in  a  buggy.  Both  climbed  in  beside  her. 
Keith  took  the  reins,  and  lashed  the  horse  with  the  light  whip. 
The  astonished  animal  leaped;  the  buggy  jerked  forward. 

Then  began  a  wild,  careering,  bumpy  ride  into  the  night.  The 
road  was  fearful  and  all  but  invisible.  The  carriage  swayed  and 
swung  dangerously.  Keith  drove,  every  faculty  concentrated. 
No  one  spoke.  The  dim  and  ghostly  half -guessed  forms  of  things 
at  night  streamed  past. 

"  Who  sent  that  letter?"  demanded  Keith  finally. 

"Mex  wouldn't  tell  me,"  replied  Krafft. 

"How  long  ago  did  he  deliver  it?" 

"About  an  hour." 

The  horse  plunged  frantically  under  the  lash  as  this  reply 
reached  Keith.  The  buggy  was  all  but  overturned.  He  pulled 
the  frantic  animal  down  to  a  slower  pace,  and  with  an  obvious 
effort  regained  control  of  himself. 

" Can't  afford  an  accident!"  he  warned  himself. 

"Are  you  armed?"  Mrs.  Sherwood  asked  him  suddenly. 

"  Yes — no,  I  left  my  gun  at  headquarters — that  doesn't  matter." 

Mrs.  Sherwood  made  no  comment.  The  wind  caught  her 
hah-  and  whipped  it  about.  In  the  distance  now  twinkled  the 
lights  of  Jake's  Place.  Keith  took  a  firmer  grip  on  the  reins,  and 
again  applied  the  whip.  They  swept  into  the  gravelled  driveway 
on  two  wheels,  righted  themselves,  and  rounded  to  the  veranda. 
Keith  pulled  up  and  leaped  to  the  ground.  Nobody  was  visible. 
From  the  veranda  he  turned  on  them. 

"Here,  you!"  he  commanded  Mrs.  Sherwood  sharply,  "I 
can't  have  you  m  this  row!  Stay  here,  outside.  You  take  care 
of  her,"  he  told  Krafft.  "  No,  I  mean  it ! " 

On  his  words  a  scream  burst  from  the  lighted  room.  Keith 
sprang  to  the  door,  found  it  locked,  and  drew  back.  With  a  low 
mighty  rush  he  thrust  his  shoulder  against  the  panel  near  the 
lock.  The  wood  splintered.  He  sprang  forward  into  the  room. 


LXXV 

ATER  turning  the  key  in  the  lock  outside  the  parlour 
door  Mrs.  Morrell  slipped  along  the  dark  veranda,  passed 
through  a  narrow  hall,  and  entered  a  small  back  sitting- 
room.  Jake's  Place  especially  abounded  in  sitting-rooms.  This 
particular  one  was  next  the  parlour,  so  that  one  listening  intently 
could  be  more  or  less  aware  of  what  was  going  on  in  the  larger 
room.  Here  Morrell  was  already  seated,  a  bottle  of  beer  next  his 
hand.  He  raised  his  eyebrows  on  her  entrance,  and  she  nodded 
back  reassuringly.  She,  too,  sat  down  and  helped  herself  to 
beer.  Both  smoked.  For  a  long  time  neither  said  anything. 

"Don't  hear  much  in  there,"  observed  Mrs.  Morrell  finally,  in 
a  low  guarded  tone. 

"Not  a  sound,"  agreed  Morrell.  "You  don't  suppose 
she— 

"No,  I  don't  think  so." 

"Then  I  don't  see  what  ails  that  fool,  Sansome!  It'd  be  just 
like  him  to  jib." 

"What  does  it  matter?"  observed  Mrs.  Morrell  philosophi 
cally.  "  We  don't  care  what  is  happening  inside  as  long  as  those 
two  doors  stay  locked  until  Teeny  and  Jimmy  Ware  get 
here." 

As  has  been  mentioned,  Pop  McFarlane  was  also  of  the  party; 
but,  characteristically,  neither  would  have  thought  that  fact 
worth  mentioning. 

"Just  the  same,  as  a  matter  of  academic  interest,  I'd  have 
expected  her  to  make  more  of  a  row,"  said  Morrell.  "I'll  wager 
for  all  her  airs  she  runs  the  same  gait  as  all  the  rest  of  you." 

"Do  you  mean  me?"  demanded  Mrs.  Morrell,  her  eyes  flash 
ing  dangerously. 

382 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  383 

"Moderate  your  voice,  my  dear,"  advised  he.  "My  remark 
was  wholly  general  of  your  charming  sex." 

From  the  parlour  now  they  heard  faintly  the  first  sounds  of 
struggle. 

"That's  more  like,"  he  said  with  satisfaction.  "I  hate  to 
have  my  ideals  shattered." 

Wheels  became  audible. 

"There's  Teeny,  now,"  he  observed,  arising.  He  sauntered 
down  the  hall  and  looked  out.  "  Keith ! "  he  whispered  back  over 
his  shoulder.  "Where  in  hell  did  he  come  from?"  He  con 
tinued  to  peer  into  the  darkness.  "There's  two  others.  Well, 
at  any  rate,  we  have  plenty  of  witnesses!"  He  turned  to  Mrs. 
Morrell.  "You'd  better  make  yourself  scarce.  You  locked 
that  door,  you  know! " 

"Scarce!"  she  repeated,  staring  at  him.     "Where?    How?" 

He  looked  at  her  through  narrowed  lids. 

"  Get  a  horse  of  Jake,"  he  said  at  last.  "  I'll  meet  you— oh,  at 
the  house.  We'll  arrange  later." 

He  watched  her  rather  opulent  figure  steal  down  the  dim  hall 
way.  A  cynical  smile  flashed  under  his  moustache.  He  turned 
back  to  the  drama  before  him.  The  buggy  had  disappeared;  the 
veranda  was  apparently  empty. 

"Now  I  wonder  who  will  shoot  who? "  speculated  Morrell. 

He  stole  to  the  first  of  the  windows.  The  lower  blinds  were 
drawn,  but  the  upper  half  of  the  window  was  clear.  Morrell 
cautiously  placed  a  stool  nearby,  and  mounted  it  so  he  could  see 
into  the  room.  For  several  minutes  he  watched.  Then  his  hand 
stole  to  his  pocket.  He  produced  a  revolver. 


LXXVI 

BLINDED  by  the  light,  Keith  stood  for  a  barely  appreciable 
moment  in  the  wrecked  doorway.  Sansome,  startled  by 
,  the  crash,  relaxed  his  efforts.  Nan  thrust  him  from  her 

so  strongly  that  he  staggered  back.  Keith's  vision  cleared.  He 
appreciated  the  meaning  of  the  tableau,  uttered  a  choked  growl, 
and  advanced. 

Immediately  Sansome  drew  and  presented  his  weapon.  He 
was  shocked  far  toward  sobriety,  but  the  residue  of  the  whiskey 
fumes  in  combination  with  a  sudden  sick  and  guilty  panic  imbued 
him  with  a  sort  of  desperation.  Sansome  was  a  bold  and  dashing 
villain  only  as  long  as  things  came  his  way.  His  amours  had 
always  been  of  the  safe  rather  than  the  wildly  adventurous 
sort.  Sansome  had  no  morals;  but  being  found  out  produced 
effects  so  closely  resembling  those  of  conscience  that  they  could 
not  be  distinguished.  In  the  chaotic  collapse  of  this  heroic  epi 
sode  he  managed  to  cling  to  but  one  thing.  That  was  MorrelPs 
often  reiterated  warning:  "Don't  let  Keith  get  his  hands  on 
you!" 

At  the  sight  of  his  levelled  weapon,  Nan,  who  was  nearest, 
uttered  a  stifled  cry  and  made  as  though  to  throw  herself  on  him. 

" Stop! "  commanded  Keith,  without  looking  toward  her.  But 
so  quietly  authoritative  was  his  voice  and  manner  that  in  spite  of 
herself  her  impulse  was  checked.  She  remained  rigid. 

Keith  advanced  steadily  on  Sansome,  his  hands  clenched  at 
his  side,  his  eyes  fixed  frowningly  and  contemptuously  on  those 
of  the  other  man.  The  pistol  barrel  was  held  on  his  breast. 
Sansome  fully  intended  to  shoot,  but  found  himself  unable  to 
pull  the  trigger.  This  is  a  condition  every  rifleman  knows  well 
by  experience;  he  calls  it  being  "frozen  on  the  bull's  eye,"  when, 

384 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  385 

the  alignment  perfect,  his  rifle  steady  as  a  rock,  he  nevertheless 
cannot  transmit  just  the  little  nerve  power  necessary  to  crook  the 
forefinger.  Three  times  Sansome  sent  the  message  to  his  trigger 
finger;  three  times  the  impulse  died  before  it  had  compassed  the 
distance  between  his  brain  and  his  hand.  This  was  partly  because 
his  correlations  had  been  weakened  by  the  drink ;  partly  because 
his  fuddled  mind  was  divided  between  fear,  guilt,  despair,  and 
a  rage  at  himself  for  having  got  into  such  a  mess;  but  principally 
because  he  was  hypnotically  dominated  by  the  other  man's 
stronger  personality. 

So  evident  was  this  that  a  sudden  feeling  of  confidence  re 
placed  in  Nan  the  sick  terror  at  the  sight  of  the  weapon.  She 
seemed  to  know  positively  that  here  was  no  real  peril.  A  wave 
of  contempt  for  Sansome,  even  as  a  dangerous  creature,  mingled 
with  a  passionate  admiration  for  the  man  who  thus  dominated 
him  unarmed. 

Sansome 's  nerve  broke.  He  dropped  his  hand,  looked  to 
right  and  left  frantically  like  a  rat  in  a  corner,  uttered  a  very 
ratty  squeak.  Suddenly  he  hurled  the  loaded  pistol  blindly  at 
Keith,  and  plunged  bodily,  with  an  immense  crash  of  breaking 
glass,  through  the  closed  window.  Keith,  with  a  snarl  of  baffled 
rage,  dashed  forward. 

The  sight  seemed  to  touch  Nan's  sense  of  humour.  She 
laughed  at  the  picture,  caught  her  breath,  gasped.  Keith 
whirled  and  snatched  her  fiercely  in  his  arms. 

"Nan!"  he  cried  in  an  agony,  "are  you  all  right?  What  did 
that  beast " 

She  clung  to  him,  still  choking,  on  the  edge  of  hysterics.  In 
a  moment  of  illumination  she  realized  that  the  intangible  bar 
rier  these  past  years  had  so  slowly  built  between  them  had  gone 
crashing  down  before  the  assault  of  the  old  love  triumphant. 

"I'm  all  right,  dear,"  she  gasped;  "really  all  right.  And  I 
never  was  so  happy  in  my  life!" 

They  clung  together  frantically,  he  patting  her  shoulder,  her 
cheek  against  his  own,  murmuring  broken,  soothing  little  phrases. 
The  time  and  the  place  did  not  exist  for  them. 


386  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

A  scuffle  outside,  which  they  had  only  vaguely  sensed,  and 
which  had  not  at  all  penetrated  to  their  understandings,  came 
to  an  end.  Mrs.  Sherwood  appeared  in  the  doorway.  Her 
dress  was  torn  and  dishevelled,  a  strand  of  her  smooth  hair  had 
fallen  across  her  forehead,  an  angry  red  mark  showed  on  one 
cheek.  But  she  was  in  high  spirits.  Her  customary  quiet  poise 
had  given  place  to  a  vibrant,  birdlike,  vital,  quivering  eagerness. 
To  the  two  in  the  centre  of  the  room,  still  clasped  in  each  other's 
arms,  came  the  same  thought:  that  never,  in  spite  of  her  ruffled 
plumes,  in  spite  of  the  cheek  already  beginning  to  swell,  had 
this  extraordinary  woman  looked  so  beautiful!  Then  Keith 
realized  that  she  was  panting  heavily,  and  was  clinging  to  the 
doorway.  He  sprang  to  her  assistance. 

"  What  is  it?    Where  is  Krafft?"  he  asked. 

She  laughed  a  little,  and  permitted  him  to  help  her  to  an 
armchair  into  which  she  sank.  She  waved  aside  Keith's  at 
tempts  to  find  a  whole  glass  in  the  wreckage  of  the  table. 

"I'm  all  right,"  she  said,  "and  isn't  this  a  nice  little  party?" 

"What  has  happened?  Where  is  Krafft?"  repeated 
Keith. 

"I  sent  him  to  the  stable  for  help.  There  didn't  seem  to  be 
anybody  about  the  place." 

"  But  what  happened  to  you?    Did  that  brute  Sansome " 

"  Sansome?  was  that  Sansome?  the  one  who  came  through  the 
window?"  She  dabbed  at  her  cheek.  "You  might  wet  me  a 
handkerchief  or  a  towel  or  something,"  she  suggested.  "No, 
he  didn't  stop!"  she  laughed  again.  "Are  you  all  right?"  she 
asked  anxiously  of  Nan. 

"Yes.    But  tell  us " 

"Well,  children,  I  was  waiting  on  the  veranda,  obeying  orders 
like  a  good  girl,when  in  the  dim  light  I  saw  a  man  mount  a  stool 
and  look  into  the  room.  He  was  very  much  interested.  I  crept 
up  quite  close  to  him  without  his  knowing  it.  I  heard  him  mut 
ter  to  himself  something  about  a  'weak-kneed  fool/  Then  he 
drew  a  revolver.  He  looked  quite  determined  and  heroic" — 
she  giggled  reminiscently — "so  I  kicked  the  stool  out  from  under 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  387 

him!  About  that  time  there  was  a  most  terrific  crash,  and 
somebody  came  out  through  the  window." 

"But  your  cheek,  your  hair " 

"I  tried  to  hold  him,  but  he  was  too  strong  for  me.  He  hit 
me  in  the  face,  wrenched  himself  free,  and  ran.  That  was  all; 
except  that  he  dropped  the  pistol,  and  I'm  going  to  keep  it  as  a 
trophy." 

Keith  was  looking  at  her,  deep  in  thought. 

"I  don't  understand,"  he  said  slowly.  "Who  could  it  have 
been?" 

Mrs.  Sherwood  shook  her  head. 

"Somebody  about  to  shoot  a  pistol;  that's  all  I  know.  I 
couldn't  see  his  face." 

"Whoever  it  was,  you  saved  one  or  both  of  us,"  said  Keith, 
"  there's  no  doubt  in  my  mind  of  that.  Let's  see  the  pistol." 

It  proved  to  be  one  of  the  smaller  Colt's  models,  about  31 
calibre,  cap  and  ball,  silver  plated,  with  polished  rosewood 
handles,  and  heavily  engraved  with  scrollwork.  Turning  it 
over,  Keith  finally  discovered  on  the  bottom  of  the  butt 
frame  two  letters  scratched  rudely,  apparently  with  the  point  of  a 
knife.  He  took  it  closer  to  the  light. 

"  I  have  it,"  said  he.     "Here  are  the  letters  C.  M." 

"Charles  Morrell!"  cried  both  women  in  a  breath. 

At  this  moment  appeared  Krafft,  somewhat  out  of  wind,  fol 
lowed  by  the  surly  and  reluctant  proprietor  from  whom  the* 
place  took  its  name.  Jake  had  been  liberally  paid  to  keep  him 
self  and  his  staff  out  of  the  way.  Now  finding  that  he  was  not 
wanted,  he  promptly  disappeared. 

"Let's  get  to  the  bottom  of  this  thing,"  said  Keith  decisively. 
"If  those  are  really  meant  for  Morrell's  initials,  what  was  he  do 
ing  here?" 

"Mrs.  Morrell  came  out  with  me,"  put  in  Nan. 

"Jake  told  me  there  was  to  be  a  supper  party  later,"  said  Krafft. 

"It's  clear  enough,"  contributed  Mrs.  Sherwood.  "The 
whole  thing  is  a  plot  to  murder  or  do  worse.  I've  been  through 
'50  and  '51,  and  I  know." 


388  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

"I  can't  believe  yet  that  Sansome "  said  Keith  doubt 
fully. 

"Oh,  Sansome  is  merely  a  tool,  I  don't  doubt,"  replied  Mrs, 
Sherwood. 

"I  can  find  out  to-morrow  from  Mex  Ryan  who  sent  the  note,'7 
said  Kraff  t. 

"Let's  get  out  of  this  horrible  place!"  cried  Nan  with  a  con 
vulsive  shiver. 

Again  they  had  great  difficulty  in  finding  any  one  to  get  their 
rigs,  but  finally  repeated  calls  brought  the  hostler  and  Jake 
himself.  The  latter  made  some  growl  about  payment  for  the  en 
tertainment,  but  at  this  Keith  turned  on  him  with  such  concen 
trated  fury  that  he  muttered  something  and  slouched  away.  It 
was  agreed  that  Krafft  should  conduct  Mrs.  Sherwood.  They 
tlambered  into  the  two  buggies  and  drove  away. 


LXXVII 

THE  horse  plodded  slowly  down  the  gravelled  drive  of 
the  road  house  and  turned  into  the  main  highway.  It 
was  very  dark  on  earth,  and  very  bright  in  the  heavens. 
The  afternoon  fog  had  cleared  away,  dissipated  in  the  warm  air 
from  the  sand  hills,  for  the  day  had  been  hot.  Overhead  flared 
thousandsof  stars,  throwing  the  world  small.  Nan,  shivering  in  re- 
action,nestledagainstherhusband.  Hedrewherclose.  Sherested 
her  cheek  against  his  shoulder  and  sighed  happily.  Neither  spoke, 
At  first  Keith's  whole  being  was  filled  with  rage.  His  mind 
whirled  with  plans  for  revenge.  On  the  morrow  he  would  hunt 
down  Morrell  and  Sansome.  At  the  thought  of  what  he  would 
do  to  them,  his  teeth  clamped  and  his  muscles  stiffened.  Then 
he  became  wholly  preoccupied  with  Nan's  narrow  escape.  His 
quick  mind  visualized  a  hundred  possibilities — suppose  he  had 
gone  on  Durkee's  expedition?  Suppose  Mex  Ryan  had  not 
happened  to  remember  his  name?  Suppose  Mrs.  Sherwood  and 
Krafft  had  not  found  him?  Suppose  they  had  been  an  hour 

later?     Suppose He  leaned  over  tenderly  to  draw  the 

lap  robe  closer  about  her.     She  had  stopped  shivering  and  was 
nestling  contentedly  against  him. 

But  gradually  the  storm  in  Keith's  soul  fell.  The  great  and 
solemn  night  stood  over  against  his  vision,  and  at  last  he  could 
not  but  look.  The  splendour  of  the  magnificent  skies,  the 
dreamy  peace  of  the  velvet-black  earth  lying  supine  like  a  weary 
creature  at  rest — these  two  simple  infinities  of  space  and  of 
promise  took  him  to  themselves.  An  eager  glad  chorus  of  frogs 
came  from  some  invisible  pool.  The  slithering  sound  of  the 
sand  dividing  before  the  buggy  wheels  whispered.  Every  once 
in  a  while  the  plodding  horse  sighed  deeply. 

389 


390  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

With  the  warm  cozy  feel  of  the  woman,  his  woman,  in  the 
hollow  of  his  arm,  his  spirit  stilled  and  uplifted  by  the  simple  yet 
august  and  eternal  things  before  him,  Keith  fell  into  inchoate 
rumination.  The  fever  of  activity  in  the  city,  the  clash  of  men's 
interests,  greeds,  and  passions,  the  tumult  and  striving,  the 
sweat  and  dust  of  the  arena  fell  to  nothing  about  his  feet.  He 
cleared  his  vision  of  the  small  necessary  unessentials,  and  stared 
forth  wide-eyed  at  the  big  simplicities  of  life — truth  as  one  sees 
it,  loyalty  to  one's  ideal,  charity  toward  one's  beaten  enemy,  a 
steadfast  front  toward  one's  unbeaten  enemy,  scorn  of  petti 
ness,  to  be  unafraid.  Unless  the  struggle  is  for  and  by  these 

things,  it  is  useless,  meaningless.  And  one's  possessions 

Keith's  left  arm  tightened  convulsively.  He  had  come  near  to 
losing  the  only  possession  worth  while.  At  the  pressure  Nan 
stirred  sleepily. 

"Are  we  there,  dear?"  she  inquired,  raising  her  head. 

Keith  had  reined  in  the  horse,  and  was  peering  into  the  sur 
rounding  darkness.  He  laughed. 

"No,  we  seem  to  be  here,"  he  replied.  "And  I'm  blest  if  I 
know  where  'here'  is!  I've  been  day-dreaming!"  •* 

"I  believe  I've  been  asleep,"  confessed  Nan. 

They  both  stared  about  them,  but  could  discern  nothing 
familiar  in  the  dim  outlines  of  the  hills.  Not  a  light  flickered. 

"Perhaps  if  you'd  give  the  horse  his  head,  he'd  take  us  home. 
I've  heard  they  would,"  suggested  Nan. 

"He's  had  his  head  completely  for  the  last  two  hours.  That 
theory  is  exploded.  We  must  have  turned  wrong  after  leaving 
Jake's  Place." 

"Well,  we're  on  a  road.    It  must  go  somewhere." 

Keith,  with  some  difficulty,  managed  to  awaken  the  horse. 
It  sighed  and  resumed  its  plodding. 

"I'm  afraid  we're  lost,"  confessed  Keith. 

"I  don't  much  care,"  confessed  Nan. 

"He  seems  to  be  a  perfectly  safe  horse,"  said  he. 

By  way  of  answer  to  this  she  passed  her  arms  gently  about  his 
neck  and  bent  his  lips  to  hers.  The  horse  immediately  stopped. 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  391 

"Seems  a  fairly  intelligent  brute,  too,"  observed  Keith,  after 
a  few  moments. 

"Did  you  ever  see  so  many  stars?"  said  she. 

The  buggy  moved  slowly  on  through  the  night.  They  did 
not  talk.  Explanations  and  narrative  could  wait  until  the 
morrow — a  distant  morrow  only  dimly  foreseen  across  this 
vast  ocean  of  night.  All  sense  of  time  or  direction  left  them; 
they  were  wandering  irresponsibly,  without  thought  of  why,  as 
children  wander  and  get  lost.  After  a  long  time  they  saw  a 
silver  gleam  far  ahead  and  below  them. 

"  That  must  be  the  bay,"  said  Keith.  "  If  we  turn  to  the  right 
we  ought  to  get  back  to  town." 

"I  suppose  so,"  said  Nan. 

A  very  long  tune  later  the  horse  stopped  short  with  an  air 
of  finality,  and  refused  absolutely  to  proceed.  Keith  descended 
to  see  what  was  the  matter. 

"The  road  seems  to  end  here,"  he  told  her.  "There's  a 
steep  descent  just  ahead." 

"What  now?" 

"Nothing,"  he  replied,  climbing  back  into  the  buggy. 

The  horse  slumbered  profoundly.  They  wrapped  the  lap  robe 
around  themselves.  For  a  time  they  whispered  little  half- 
forgotten  things  to  each  other.  The  pauses  grew  longer  and 
longer.  With  an  effort  she  roused  herself  to  press  her  lips  again 
to  his.  They,  too,  slept.  And  as  dawn  slowly  lighted  the  world, 
they  must  have  presented  a  strange  and  bizarre  silhouette  atop 
the  hill  against  the  paling  sky— the  old  sagging  buggy,  the  horse 
with  head  down  and  ears  adroop,  the  lovers  clasped  in  each 
other's  arms. 

Silently  all  about  them  the  new  day  was  preparing  its  great 
spectacle.  The  stars  were  growing  dim;  the  masses  of  eastern 
hills  were  becoming  visible.  A  full  rich  life  was  swelling  through 
the  world,  quietly,  stealthily,  as  though  under  cover  of  darkness 
multitudes  were  stealing  to  their  posts.  Shortly,  when  the 
s'gnal  was  given,  the  curtain  would  roll  up,  the  fanfare  of 
trumpets  would  resound A  meadow  lark  chirped  low  out  of 


392  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

the  blackness.  And  another,  boldly,  with  full  throat,  uttered  its 
liquid,  joyous  song.  This  was  apparently  the  signal.  The  east 
turned  gray.  Mt.  Tamalpais  caught  the  first  ghostly  light.  And 
ecstatically  the  birds  and  the  insects  and  the  flying  and  crawling 
and  creeping  things  awakened,  and  each  in  his  own  voice  and 
manner  devoutly  welcomed  the  brand-new  day  with  its  fresh, 
clean  chances  of  life  and  its  forgetfulness  of  old,  disagreeable 
things.  The  meadow  larks  became  hundreds,  the  song  sparrows 
trilled,  distant  cocks  crowed,  and  a  dog  barked  exuberantly  far 
away. 

Keith  stirred  and  looked  about  him.  Objects  were  already 
becoming  dimly  visible.  Suddenly  something  attracted  his 
attention.  He  held  his  head  sideways,  listening.  Faintly  down 
the  little  land  breeze  came  the  sound  of  a  bell.  It  was  the 
Vigilante  tocsin.  Nan  sat  up,  blinking  and  putting  her  hair 
back  from  her  eyes.  She  laughed  a  little  happily. 

"Why,  it's  the  dawn!"  she  cried.  "We've  been  out  all 
night!" 

"The  dawn,"  repeated  Keith,  his  arm  about  her,  but  his  ear 
attuned  to  the  beat  of  the  distant  bell.  "The  gray  dawn  of 
better  things." 


LXXVIII 

S  THE  Keiths,  on  the  way,  drove  across  what  is  now 
Harbour  View,  they  stopped  to  watch  a  bark  standing 
out  through  the  Golden  Gate  before  the  gentle  morning 
land  breeze.  She  made  a  pretty  sight,  for  the  new-risen  sun 
whitened  her  sails.  Aboard  her  was  the  arch-plotter,  Morrell. 
Had  they  known  of  that  fact,  it  is  to  be  doubted  whether  they 
would  have  felt  any  great  disappointment  over  his  escape,  or  any 
deep  animosity  at  all.  The  outcome  of  his  efforts  had  been 
clarifying.  The  bark  was  bound  for  the  Sandwich  Islands. 
MorrelTs  dispositions  for  flight  at  a  moment's  notice  had  been 
made  long  since;  in  fact,  since  the  first  days  of  Vigilante 
activity.  He  lingered  in  the  islands  for  some  years,  at  first 
cutting  quite  a  dash;  then,  as  his  money  dwindled  and  his 
schemes  failed,  he  degenerated  slowly.  His  latter  end  was 
probably  as  a  small  copra  trader  in  the  South  Seas;  but  that  is  un 
known.  Mrs.  Morrell — if  indeed  she  was  the  man's  legal  wife  at 
all — thus  frankly  abandoned,  put  a  bold  front  on  the  whole 
matter.  She  returned  to  her  house.  As  the  Keiths  in  no  manner 
molested  her,  she  took  heart.  With  no  resources  other  than 
heavily  mortgaged  real  property,  she  found  herself  forced  to  do 
something  for  a  living.  In  the  course  of  events  we  see  Mrs. 
Morrell  keeping  a  flashy  boarding-house,  hanging  precariously  on 
the  outer  fringe  of  the  lax  society  of  the  times,  frowned  upon  by 
the  respectable,  but  more  or  less  sought  by  the  fast  men  and 
young  girls  only  too  numerous  among  the  idle  of  that  day. 

Ben  Sansome  went  south.  For  twenty  years  he  lived  in  Los 
Angeles,  where  he  cut  a  figure,  but  from  which  he  always  cast 
longing  eyes  back  upon  San  Francisco.  He  had  a  furtive 
lookout  for  arrivals  from  the  north.  One  day,  however,  he  came 

393 


394  THE  GRAY  DAWN 

face  to  face  with  Keith.  As  the  latter  did  not  annihilate  him  on 
the  spot,  Sansome  plucked  up  courage.  He  returned  to  San 
Francisco.  There  in  time  he  attained  a  position  dear  to  his 
heart:  he  became  an  "old  beau,"  frequenting  the  teas  and  balls, 
appraising  the  debutantes,  giving  his  opinion  on  vintage  wines, 
leading  a  comfortable,  idle,  selfish,  useless,  graceful  life.  His 
only  discomfort  was  his  occasional  encounters  with  the  Keiths. 
Mrs.  Keith  never  distinguished  him  from  thin  air  unless  others 
were  present.  Keith  had  always  in  his  eye  a  gleam  of  contempt 
which,  perhaps,  Sansome  acknowledged,  was  natural;  but  it  was 
a  contempt  with  a  dash  of  amusement  in  it,  and  that  galled. 
Still  Ben  was  satisfied.  He  gained  the  distinction  of  having 
discovered  the  epicurean  value  of  sand-dabs. 

The  Sherwoods  founded  the  family  of  that  name. 

Terry,  arrested  for  the  stabbing  of  Hopkins,  was  at  first  very 
humble,  promising  to  resign  his  Supreme  Court  judgeship.  As 
time  went  on  he  became  arrogant.  The  Committee  of  Vigilance 
was  rather  at  a  loss.  If  Hopkins  died,  they  could  do  no  less  than 
hang  Terry;  and  they  realized  fully  that  in  executing  a  Justice  of 
the  Supreme  Court  they  were  entering  deep  waters.  To  the 
relief  of  everybody  Hopkins  fully  recovered.  After  being  held 
closely  in  custody,  Terry  was  finally  released  with  a  resolution 
that  he  be  declared  unfit  for  office.  Once  free,  however,  he 
revised  his  intention  of  resigning.  His  subsequent  career  proved 
as  lawless  and  undisciplined  as  its  earlier  promise.  Finally  he 
was  killed  while  in  the  act  of  attempting  to  assassinate  Justice 
Stephen  Field,  an  old,  weak,  helpless,  and  unarmed  man.  If 
Terry  holds  any  significance  in  history,  it  is  that  of  being  the 
strongest  factor  in  the  complete  wrecking  of  the  Law  and  Order 
party! 

For  with  the  capture  of  the  arsenals,  and  all  their  arms,  open 
opposition  to  the  Committee  of  Vigilance  came  to  an  end.  The  Ex 
ecutive  Committee  continued  its  work.  Numberless  malefactors 
and  suspects  were  banished;  two  more  men,  Hetherington  and 
Brace,  were  solemnly  hanged.  On  the  8th  of  August  the  cells 
were  practically  empty.  It  was  determined  to  disband  on  the  2ist 


THE  GRAY  DAWN  395 

That  ceremony  was  signalized  by  a  parade  on  the  i8th.  Four 
regiments  of  infantry,  two  squadrons  of  cavalry,  a  battalion  of 
riflemen,  a  battalion  of  pistol  men,  and  a  battalion  of  police  were 
in  line.  The  entire  city  turned  out  to  cheer. 

As  for  the  effects  of  this  movement,  the  reader  must  be  referred 
to  the  historians.  It  is  sufficient  to  say  that  for  years  San 
Francisco  enjoyed  a  model  government  and  almost  complete 
immunity  from  crime. 

One  evening  about  twilight  two  men  stood  in  the  gathering 
shadows  of  the  Plaza.  They  were  old  friends,  but  had  in  times 
of  stress  stood  on  opposite  sides.  The  elder  man  shook  his  head 
skeptically. 

"That  is  all  very  well,"  said  he,  "but  where  are  your  Vigilantes 
now?" 

The  other  raised  his  hand  toward  the  great  bell  of  the  Monu 
mental  silhouetted  against  the  afterglow  in  the  sky. 

"Toll  that  bell,  sir,  and  you  will  see!"  replied  Coleman 
solemnly. 


THE  END 


THE  COUNTRY   LIFE  PRESS 
GARDEN   CITY,   N.  Y. 


GENERAL  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA— BERKELEY 

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